


To Kill A King

by HecoHansen31



Series: The Daughters of Orsola [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Domestic Violence, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 90,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: You are meant to marry the Scourge of Christians, you, a pure and devoted Saxon Princess, and if the idea doesn’t scare you already… a complicated castle plot will bring you away from home and in a different culture
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Reader, Ivar (Vikings)/You
Series: The Daughters of Orsola [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672849
Comments: 54
Kudos: 85





	1. "The Second Daughter"

**_The Second Daughter:_ **

_On the other side  
Of these castle walls  
Lies a world I’m not a part of_

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=ZTE5ZDIwOTcxYTIzNjUyNTQwNmVlNGI3ZWI4MThlYTM3NWI3MTY0NyxtR1ZIT0Rpdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190445537684%2Fto-kill-a-king-teaser&m=1) _

You still remembered when you heard the news that you would be marrying the heathen king.

You had been overhearing a war assembly, where your father stood in an important role, almost a decisive one, as he promised your hand to the ruthless leader of the Great Heathen Army.

You had remembered slumping lightly against the wall, meanwhile your older sister seemed shocked by the sole thought of what you had both heard, as your younger sister asked enthusiastically what you had both heard that was so shocking.

‘Abigail’ had calmed her your sister, reminding her of the silence you had to observe meanwhile you were on your little mission ‘… we’ll talk about it once we are in our chamber’.

‘But?!’ replied your impatient sister, meanwhile you lightly slumped down the wall, bringing your knees against your chest as in your mind every horrible rumor about the Ivar The Boneless replied.

He would sneak around like a snake, the same one who had tempted Eve and he was as cunning as the devil, if not twice since he was one of his sons according to what your lady-in-waiting said when they thought you weren’t listening to them, hiding under the pretense of a Viking origin.

Anything would have made him a cruel husband and a terrible father to any of the child that might be born from your unsacred relationship, and the sole thought of having children with him, letting him enter your body…

… it made you nauseous.

Your father had to be joking or having some kind of plan.

He wouldn’t tarnish one of his beloved daughters with such a an unfitting union, one that would go against your God and law.

‘ ‘Leen!’ called out again your younger sister and you immediately shot her a stern look, finally obtaining a bit of silence, before you uttered out painfully.

‘… father wants me to marry Ivar the Boneless’ and your voice broke right in the middle of the phrase, your older sister gently pushing you in a soft hug, cooing you lightly as a mother would have done ‘… how could he…? He is a heathen… and a monster!’.

Your voice raised up a bit, and Kathleen gently pushed you to hold you further in her clothes, so that the fabric would suffocate your sobs and sighs, as Abigail also came closer.

‘Father… wouldn’t… father is kind he is…” but she was shushed by a harsh look of Kathleen ‘… and Kathleen is supposed to be married before you!’.

It would have been a disgrace for the first sister to be left as a spinster, meanwhile the second married before her, but Kathleen didn’t seem annoyed by the sole thought, in the slightest, chastising Abigail for her superficial comment.

And suddenly there was a sound noise of chairs moving against the ground and it reminded you of the secrecy of your mission, immediately scurrying off as your sisters tried to keep quiet, raising your gowns so they wouldn’t swish against the pavement.

But you weren’t able to keep up your conversation, because as you reached your rooms and hid in your big bed, so that your crying face wouldn’t be seen, you were asked to join your father in the dining room, because he had something important to tell you.

‘I can’t, Kathleen’ you had uttered, shocked and knowing all too well what your father had to say ‘… he is going to sell me out as a cow to the best offer, and the best offer is a boneless monster that will taint my innocence!’.

‘Father knows the boneless man! He wouldn’t leave you to him without knowing you’d be safe’ tried to comfort you your older sister, meanwhile Abigail brought you a little basin of water to erase the little tears which stained your pretty face ‘… do have to little faith, in father, the most faithful man who has ever existed!’.

You hadn’t been comforted by your sister’s words: she was the first daughter and the heir, the only one who he wouldn’t have been sacrificed for the good of his reign, unlike you.

The middle daughter, not as important as Kathleen and not as pretty as Abigail.

“(Y/N)” the voice of your father thundered as you and your sister joined him for the lunch, your hands fidgeting with the rich clothes of your dress, a beauty of light gold and silver, as you kept your head low “… my blessed daughter, I have wonderful news for you, one that will make us all very rich and important”.

You had wanted to raise lightly your head and accuse him of wanting to sell you out to a godless man, as a cruel and ungrateful man, who was supposed to be your father, his own little Iphigenia, ready for the most horrible of sacrifices.

But you had kept your head low, meanwhile your sisters had grabbed your fidgety hands, trying to still them, to hide your fear, as you readjusted yourself in the chair.

“You’ll have a husband soon, my beloved!” the joyful laugh of your father was promptly joined by all his courtiers, before he stilled himself and stopped the joyous sounds with a simple gesture of his hand “… and even sooner you’ll be a widow”.

Surprise shook your face and made you raise it, due to the sudden discovery, looking around worried, asking yourself what your father meant with his cryptic words.

“Father… I am not… following your… mind” you asked worriedly, meanwhile you pushed yourself back completely, till your back hit the chair, the light swishing of your clothes the only sound in the filled room.

“… oh, my sweetheart, you’ll never picture my surprise and disgust when that cripple came to me… he asked for your hand, he said you looked like one of their goddesses… Frya, Frydel… whatever it is…”.

“Freya” you muttered under your breath, remembering about the time you had learned about the goddess of love and war, the most beautiful of all, although she held a cruel side.

“… yeah that one, but I didn’t listen to his request, I wanted nothing more than to order my guards to throw him out: a lowlife asking for the hand of a princess of Saxonia? That’s unheard!”.

Then why had your father chosen to give him your hand?

“Then king Alfred came at me” the young kind moving forward from the crowd, whom you hadn’t recognized, taken by your inner turmoil and the shadow shielding him, but he sent his severe look onto you, as you immediately bowed, alongside your sisters “… and told me that there is no better spy than your own wife”.

You were bewildered by what your father was implying, but Alfred quickly spoke, making you turn his attention towards him.

“The heathens are victorious because they are unpredictable; they fight like nothing we have seen, so an inside source might be helpful” he took another step towards you, making you shiver lightly.

Although you were a princess, you couldn’t help but be intimidated by the young prince of all Saxons, knowing all too well what his father had accomplished and before him his wise grandfather.

“… princess (Y/N), I know that we are asking much from you: your virtue and your life might put on the line, but it might win this war over to us” his eyes were searching yours with a desperate note “… we need you desperately to marry an heathen to defeat them”.

“The marriage would be celebrated by his rules hence it wouldn’t be rightful in our glorious God’s eyes and king Alfred promised me that he’ll find somewhere peaceful for you to spend your days, my precious daughter”.

Your heart couldn’t help but lose a beat: not only you would have to marry a heathen, but you would also be sent to exile, although not shamefully, but certainly everyone wanted the tainted goods of a heathen to stay away from them.

Fear in your guts spiked up and Kathleen beside you, held a hand behind your back, to keep you sit properly.

“… princess (Y/N), I know it’s much that we are asking you, but the good of our blessed country is more important than any life: men have sacrificed theirs for freedom, you are asked to also do a sacrifice for the benefit of your nation”.

“But it’s utter barbaric” spoke your sister Kathleen, openly challenging the king and your father, being chastised immediately by the latter, and you knew that he would have ‘a private talk’ with your sister.

You could already see the bruises blossoming on Kathleen’s body.

Your father had never touched neither you or Abigail, which was strange and unusual, since she was the heir and many times the beating had been savage enough to bring your sister on the brink of death.

What you had simply learned from your own thoughts was that your father wanted you and your sister to fear him, not because of your lives but for Kathleen’s, but alongside it, he also was trying to ‘teach his heir a lesson’.

It never worked, since Kathleen would misbehave more times than not, but both you and Abigail knew better than to actually anger your father.

And this is why you nodded lightly, as king Alfred huffed a breath of relief, taking one of your hands so suddenly that you almost backed again against the chair.

Your father instead laughed happily, meanwhile he invited everyone to party already for their victory.

Everyone seemed to immediately raise up their souls, except you.

You had a horrible sensation in your guts and as everyone partied up you heaved your guts in the first hallway you could find, on the way out of the dining room.

You were to be nothing more than a sacrifice for the good of your country.

A country who didn’t care about you.

You hadn’t met your soon-to-be-husband till the day before your wedding because he wanted to host a great feast in honor of a blessed union between his people and the Saxons.

Part of you was partly curious to see what your soon-to-be-husband would look alike, aside from the rumors you had heard, but for those same rumors, you were scared about him, as well.

You hadn’t been able to sleep the entire night and when your maids had come to help you set up, and you had just let them doll you up, as a breathing doll, opposing little resistance, when they insisted into pushing you in a tight corset, before they decked heavy jewels on your hands and neck, concealing your eye-bags with little make-up.

Your sisters had joined you meanwhile you got ready, Abigail eating anything that they brought inside for you, which you weren’t able to eat since you had lost completely your appetite, meanwhile Kathleen protested towards the injustice you had agreed to.

‘You could run away, little sister! Grab those jewels and sell them! Start a new life, somewhere less shitty”.

Abigail had quickly reprimanded your sister for the vulgar language, as she stuffed her mouth with one of the sugary figs you had been offered.

“That wouldn’t solve anything, Kathleen, you know” you commented, staring in the mirror at the room, where your face reflected as a mask you didn’t like in the slightest “… they would just choose another girl and I would feel guilty for her destiny”.

And you wouldn’t survive a day out of the court on your own.

Kathleen huffed in annoyance, coming close to you and grabbing lightly onto your shoulder.

“I am the eldest sibling I am the one who is supposed to take care of you” she played softly with the elegant necklace of pearls you were wearing.

It was heavy enough to make your neck do quite the effort to keep itself straight, but it added something to your virginal and pure image the maid had pictured on your body.

Your father obviously wanting to make you seem as the Virgin Mary, sacrificing her womb for the greater good.

You almost wished you could have been more like Freya, in that moment.

You didn’t feel in the slightest like Freya that day.

“… but it isn’t you that Ivar the Boneless wants” although your words were crude, there was a softness to them that made your sister lightly tear up.

“I want nothing more than go back in time and make him chosen me” she commented, a few tears shining in her eyes, as your hand joined hers on your chest “… I would have stabbed that fool the moment he had tried to lay with me, I would have slayed his entire camp…”.

“You know that you wouldn’t have come out of it alive” you tried to reassure her: the thought of your sister surviving you, brightened the dark fate you felt hanging onto your head.

“… and will you?” she fell onto her knees and turning lightly your chair towards her “… you aren’t a fighter, he could just… I pray to God each night that he won’t…”.

“Let’s not talk about these horrible subjects” because your breath was coming harshly at you, anxiety flooding through your veins and troubling your stomach, although hunger didn’t shake it yet.

“Kathleen, (Y/N) is right! You are traumatizing her even more her worst nightmares!” shouted Abigail, and you both turned to her, ready to shut her up “… and if the rumors are true, he won’t take advantage of her!”.

You both sent her a curious look, meanwhile she finished the sugary treat she had been munching onto.

“… it is stated that sadly… king Ivar isn’t able to raise to the occasion”.

Both you and Kathleen shared a crazed look, before you erupted in hysterical laughter.

Everything could make this nightmare better, more than anything your sisters’ laugh.

You came to a secluded place, in the middle of the Vikings camp and your castle, which had been arranged d by the Vikings with tents and tables, since you would be soon joining them and take on their traditions.

You hadn’t been able to feel properly calm for the entire horse ride, although you had been rather pleased to have a distraction, in guiding your horse through rocks and grass, meanwhile your sisters stuck close to you, as your father and King Alfred rode in front of everybody.

When you reached the place, you couldn’t help but be amazed by the beauty of the landscape they had set the entire thing in: although it was a simple setting, it was lovely as only the simplest of things could be.

And you were secretly glad that they hadn’t made this a bigger deal than it was supposed to be.

When you arrived, two men were waiting for you, dressed in clear Viking fashion, one a bit taller and the other one slimmer, but something told you they were brothers.

Maybe it was the identical way they smirked as you appeared onto their sight.

And with the way they stood with their heads high you knew they were princes, maybe Ivar’s brothers.

The translator who had come with you, immediately breeched through the alignment, as your guards covered you, in a small attempt to hide you, but you knew better than to escape the gaze of those two men.

They seemed alerted by the sudden shift, their hands moving to their armed belts, but they didn’t dare to do more, simply letting the threat floating in the air.

“We are here to bring princess (Y/N) to prince Ivar, for the feast in honor of their engagement” mumbled your translator, his accent definitely sounding Saxon and his voice a bit shaky, since he was so exposed in front of the barbarians “… let us through”.

Both the brothers exchanged a quick look and didn’t move, neither they moved away when the translator repeated his question, they stayed struck in the ground and, you chose to end this atrocious pantomime, breaking the alignment again, shifting your horse to the side to show yourself to the brothers.

“I am princess (Y/N)” you uttered in their language, surprising them enough that the two matching smirks fell from his faces “I have come to know my future husband, will you be so kind to escort us to him?”.

They replied with a curt nod, before turning around without waiting for you.

Suddenly you realized that everyone’s eyes were on you, even king Alfred, who looked at you as people did only with miracles and witches in that moment you felt like you were both, in his eyes since he couldn’t understand whether you were a good or bad thing.

You hoped he never had to find out about it.

Your father pushed the horses to ride again quickly to match the brothers’ steps, but you asked to remain back, just freshen up yourself to a near wellspring you had found.

It was more to let out the steam you felt in your body and its tension than for actually refreshing yourself up and your father allowed you, he had bigger thoughts on his mind, than thinking that you would escape, which you wouldn’t do, since guards were left behind, alongside your sisters.

Kathleen immediately came to you, shielding you with your body from the guards’ ears who tried to be discreet in their spying.

“… if you want to run, I can distract the guards….”.

“I just needed a breather” you replied softly, lowering your hands in the fresh water of the fountain, something which brought you comfort and calmness, as Abigail, held back your head, in an attempt to avoid your hair being wet from it.

But you had a better idea.

“… Abigail, can you help me unbraid my hair?”.

* * *

You weren’t used to walking in great halls were people walked so recklessly in a chaotic atmosphere that seemed as funny as it was dangerous.

You were finally thankful for your guard, as they helped you through the drunkards, beggars and whores that followed the army, as they led through a clearer path.

The one to the main table, where your father and king Alfred were sat, one beside the other on the farthest seats, meanwhile four boys occupied the other seats, leaving only one empty, beside the most beautiful of the brothers.

You had prepared yourself to maintain a perfectly composed face even if your husband turned out half a snake, but nothing had prepared you to the exact contrary of it.

Your soon-to-be-husband was quite handsome, with gorgeous blue eyes that sparked bright and true as they examined the room, maybe looking for you, as his big hands gipped tightly the surface of the rough wooden table, in a way that made you shiver.

Strangely not out of fear.

He was handsome in a ruthless way you hadn’t expected.

You were speechless and thankful you had been allowed to watch him, spy on him like that, in secret, shielded by your guards, because you knew for sure you wouldn’t have been able to be even simply witty, if you hadn’t been given the premise that your husband could be so handsome.

He somehow looked like a fallen angel with all that rage flaming in his eyes.

Kathleen seemed to confuse your wonder for fear and gently tightened her grip on your hand which you returned, offering her comforting smirk, as the guards opened their formation to let you be seen, just as you turned to the table again.

Your father pushed an hand into your direction, assuming a loving expression, meanwhile he probably declared how much he loved ‘his precious daughter’ (a daughter who had won him a deal), but you were deaf, completely absorbed by Ivar’s beauty, as he slowly turned to you.

For a moment you were almost sure that he was going to admit it was all a mistake: a scrawny girl like you wouldn’t have been a proper wife, and neither she would have been worthy of an entire reign.

And for a moment you hoped so, suddenly feeling what a marriage with him would mean.

And for another moment you feared that it would happen, that his eyes would reject you with the coldness they bore.

Your father seemed to go on for longer than expected with his speech and eventually Ivar grew impatient, his growl quickly silencing your father as another noise surprised you, being emitted by Ivar’s movements and for a moment you feared he would reveal his lower body to be snake-like.

As the serpent who had tempted Eve and Adam.

He certainly was tempting your mind, with his insane beauty.

He quickly stood onto his feet, although he needed two crutches and the bigger brother you had met at the start of the camping moved to help him, but Ivar rejected his offer with a quick nod, pushing himself to slowly inch away from your father and towards you.

Since the master table was elevated, he had to descend slowly a pair of stairs, something which surprised you greatly, revealing he was as human as you, no scales or joined legs, although they were bounded together, being reinforced with steel.

You tried to hide your curiosity for his deformity, since you were well ware it was not only impolite but offending, but the way he moved held an allure that brought you to follow attentively each of his movements, even when he stumbled and almost fell on the last step of the stairs.

Somebody reached out a stabilizing arms for him to hold and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and as he moved to look at you, he seemed almost ashamed of your misstep, but you didn’t care.

You were hypnotized on your spot by those beautiful eyes and returned to him that allure, pushing him to join you closer and closer, till he was in front of you, lightly separated by the guard that immediately shielded you, probably due to the dark look on your father’s face.

Ivar moved again lower and you were almost afraid that the movement would cause him pain, almost reaching out for him, but being stopped by Kathleen, a proud smile on her face as she turned her face to you.

But Ivar didn’t seem to fall again, as he simply bowed in front of you, something which was truly a sight, because you saw the way the fabric tensed onto his shoulder, making his muscles appear under the simply but decorated tunic he wore, behind the leather chest-piece he was wearing.

“Welcome to my home, princess (Y/N)” he mumbled in your tongue, something which you appreciated and immediately returned the bow, although from the dark look on your father’s face and Kathleen’s tight grip onto your hand, you shouldn’t have.

But you dared a step further.

You answered him, on your own.

In his own language.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, prince Ivar” you spoke in his tongue, effectively surprising him and everyone in the room except the two laughing brothers who had helped you at the entrance of the camp “… my sisters and I are grateful to be your hosts in such a beautiful camp”.

“You know our tongue?” he seemed taken aback, and spoke in his tongue fast enough that you understood half the phrase but was still able to get some sense out of it, but you didn’t definitely understand the insult he hurled to the brothers who sat upon their seats, hiding their smirks.

“… not completely” you blushed, the poor slave you had managed to get you to help with your Norse had been rather reticent onto teaching you ‘some words’, as the ones Ivar had just said “… I don’t know what you just said”.

The adorable blush appearing on Ivar’s face made you smirk softly, as you gently thanked the guards and let them leave in your tongue, as Ivar muttered:

“I called them ‘cocksuckers who know nothing’ “ he muttered in his tongue, and low enough to let it be known only to you, with a tenderness that made you almost like the prince, and brought a delicious flush to your cheeks “… my brothers always think that I’ll like surprises, they don’t know when they aren’t being funny”.

“My sisters do the same” you muttered in his tongue, thankful that Kathleen had always been too busy to learn Norse and Abigail just hadn’t the patience for it “… we’ll get along in that department”.

He seemed to take your joke as a promise with the intensity that appeared in his face.

“… I hoped we’ll get along in more than that department, my princess” he mumbled softly, his tone becoming lightly darker and rougher, in a way that made you shiver again, goosebumps appearing on your most hidden skin “… we’ll be soon husband and wife”.

The thought of that brought fear onto your face and you tried to dissipate it with a small smile, bowing lightly your face to feign modesty, but Ivar still caught your worry and pushed himself a bit back, although his moves were clear: he was inviting you to take the seat next to him, between your soon-to-be-husband and the father who had sold you to him.

You shot one last look to your sisters: Kathleen tried to lightly adjust her frown in a comforting smile, meanwhile Abigail seemed to try the same approach but with much more success, being swiftly distracted by all the food being distributed around.

You followed Ivar, smiling lightly at all the new faces, trying to impress them in your memory had they been useful further along, meanwhile your father gripped one of your hands, a show of love and devotion, but you knew all too well that he was reprimanding you for your show.

You should have just stayed silent and smiled.

“Welcome also from all the sons of Ragnar” spoke the older one of the sons of Ragnar, the one that looked like a bear in your mind as he raised himself up, bringing a glass alongside with him, all the brothers imitating him as they brought up theirs cup “… to our beloved soon-to-be-sister, may the gods cherish you and bless your marriage to our little brother”.

Your felt your father shift lightly at the mention of gods alongside Alfred but they both raised their glasses, in an effort, meanwhile you simply smiled bowing your head, till Ivar pushed the glass also closer to you, in an evident sign that you should have cheered up alongside them.

And when you raised your head you found that everyone was looking at you expectantly, and your hand naturally enveloped the cup.

You had never drunk something other than water or sugary juice, since women were banished from such an activity and the most you had done was steal a bottle from the kitchen with your sisters.

But the taste of it had made you quit the sole thought of continuing on your ‘kitchens missions’.

But this time you felt like you didn’t have much choice and brought the liquid to your lips, pretending you weren’t being examined by the entire room, alongside your father who had simply wet his lips with the strange beverage, afraid of being poisoned.

But the liquid was sugary almost making you want more, till the burning on the back of the throat brought you back, almost making you coughing up, but you kept it back, your grip onto your dress became so strong and tight that you almost risked of ripping it, as you tried not to show any weakness, and when you felt like you were calm enough you smiled in the faces of the hungry lions.

Who roared in happiness, and the ‘big bear’ exclaimed something you didn’t quite catch, but Ivar leaned up lightly to your ear to say it was a Viking cheer, making you nod your head softly meanwhile you fought with the reaction of your body to Ivar’s closeness.

“… thank you, I hope to learn more” your words were slow, more for the fact that Ivar’s nearness made you unable to utter a single world without your breath being stolen by your lungs “… I know my Norse isn’t good enough”.

“I think that you are already wonderful for your attempt to learn a foreign language. Not everybody would do it” he retorted, meanwhile the room turned to its cherry atmosphere everyone’s attention diverting from the main table and the other brothers moved to their respective meals, your own stomach reclaiming its own meal.

And Ivar laughed at hearing such a sound, meanwhile you immediately blushed both for his compliments and for having let such a rude behavior into the first meeting with your soon-to-be-husband.

“Tell me, princess (Y/N), have you starved yourself all day?” he made fun of you lightly, in his tongue for which you were thankful since this would mean your father wouldn’t understand, the translator he used being pushed away from your table.

“I was just… nervous” you uttered softly, trying to gently grip onto the utensils, meanwhile you looked at the delicious food in your plate, the smell definitely driving you crazy enough to make you curious about tasting it.

“Nervous?” his tone was still teasing but what he said was enough to get you to choke onto the first bite of the tender meat “… of meeting a monster?”.

You were thankful that the choking sound you did was enough to draw your father’s attention, allowing you a moment to properly reply to Ivar’s inquiry.

“I wasn’t…” you tried not to stutter, as you thought about trying to drink some more mead, but the memory of your burning throat was enough to stop your hand from reaching out fully for the cup.

“I know better than to think that you were nervous at the romantic thought of meeting your soon-to-be-husband” he muttered, a serious edge appearing in his beautiful eyes “… I don’t entertain myself with the romantic thought of you having fallen in love with me, having never seen me and I know rather well the rumor about myself and… my legs”.

He breathed out the last part of the phrase as if it pained him to say it.

“… I know that you must have been nervous at the thought of meeting a monster, you must still be, I saw the way you trembled as I approached you…”.

“It wasn’t out of fear” because although you were still confused about the reaction of your body to Ivar’s you were sure you didn’t fear him.

You feared what he might do to you.

But he was just a man.

As you were just a woman.

He seemed surprised but not convinced of your words and you moved to the gestures, your hands, which gripped so tightly onto your dress gently moved onto his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat behind the various textures of his clothes as you felt the roughness of it tickling your fingers, under Ivar’s surprised eyes.

He looked at you as if he was a predator not wanting to startle his prey, his breath suddenly disappearing alongside his heartbeat slowing as if any movement might have scared.

But you were more resilient and gently traced the contour of his strong shoulders, wondering whether it was the leather to have such a strength or the muscle behind it.

“It wasn’t fear” you repeated, this time your voice didn’t expect any replies which Ivar didn’t allow, too focused on your hand still onto his chest, lingering a bit more than it was proper, and as you realized it you immediately shifted it to your laps “… we Saxons… are…”.

You tried to find the proper word, knowing all too well that you and Ivar came from two different cultures and although you both spoke each other’s tongue the situation was far more difficult.

“… prudes?” he joked, hiding his smile behind the cup of mead, making you fume lightly and send him an annoyed glare, which only intensified his pretty smirk “… I am simply joking, princess”.

“… modest” you muttered, as you stilled your thumping heart in your chest with a long breath “… we aren’t used to show our emotions in public… there are rules for how we talk, we walk and even eat”.

“It seems boring” mumbled Ivar, this time his tone was serious, and you were the one gracing him with a small smile, lowering your voice as you spoke.

“It is” Ivar shot you a confused look as if he didn’t understand why you inflicted this onto yourself willingly “… but it is tradition and without it we would be…”.

“… heathens” completed Ivar, hissing between his teeth, meanwhile your hand shot to his, in an attempt to make him face you again.

The need to know what his eyes spoke of was as intense in you, as a sudden summery storm.

“… savages” you corrected him, lightly slapping his hand, meanwhile you smirked softly “… it is exactly like leaning history and geography, but us women are meant to know table manners and stitching and threading”.

“That seems a limited camp for somebody who might want more” Ivar muttered, his eyes reading in you, understanding that desperate need for knowledge you had always wanted “… and you seem to know more than simply how to stand there and look pretty”.

Although his tone and his words were rough, you blushed at the strange compliment.

“Being the forgotten second daughter of a king can be useful” you explained as you proceeded to illustrate him how you would sneak out of your ladies-in-waiting’s control just to visit the library, how you had learned there all you knew, gaining a kind admiring look from Ivar “… nobody was expected to ever notice me…”.

“Till I came” his mutter was painful, as if he knew that your marriage wasn’t wanted by both, as if he knew that what he felt for you would never be reciprocated.

And for a moment you couldn’t help but feel like his sad eyes were burning a hole in your soul, as a silent plead

“… till you came along, my prince” your voice had completely changed, and Ivar noticed it by the way he shifted nervously in his seat, stung by the sudden coldness of your tone.

You weren’t anymore the girl who had learned his tongue.

You weren’t simply a woman anymore.

You were a princess, the second daughter of a king, forgotten and ignored, that now had a purpose in the world.

A purpose against the nature of your God and your reign.

Something that would have tainted you and distanced you from your beloved.

But then why did you want desperately to mean something for the beautiful prince next to you?


	2. The Veiled Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of your marriage has finally come and now that your husband is not simply a stranger to you, you have yet to discover if he would make a good husband… or not…

##  _The Veiled Bride:_

_Though his grip is so tight  
And it’s choking me  
I will find a way out  
Of this loyalty _

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=MDljMTJmZjc5MzExMTE3NGM5MTY4Y2I2MGM2NmZmNmU3NmQyMjgyYSxpTzNUTTdVeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190738105989%2Fto-kill-a-king&m=1) _

Your father had been the one who had put an end to the feast, eyeing the complete depravation the Vikings were slowly bringing in the room and even more annoyed by the gentle tone you were reserving for your soon-to-be-husband.

His eyes chastising every move and even more every touch, appalled by the fact that you were talking with the man in his tongue and not your glorious one.

But you had to admit that the feast had quelled a few of your fears, since Ivar had turned to be a proper man, with more strength than you would have given him account of and a mind that was as sharp as the dagger he held to his belt.

And although your husband had seemed much better than the rumors, you couldn’t put aside the thought that he was ‘heathen’, as he has admitted, and that he was a godless brute on the battlefield, who had killed many of your fellow Saxons.

This didn’t stop you from being feverish and dreamy for the entire time you rode back to the castle, being sheltered by your sisters who wanted to know about what Ivar had talked with you, if he had been gentle or arrogant and if he had shown any indication of being ‘an horrible husband’.

Abigail had quieted your sister’s worry with a little smirk, even more when you had blushed.

‘Horrible husband wouldn’t show themselves from the beginning… if they did, we, women, certainly would never ever marry’.

And this brought you back to think that to you Ivar was still a stranger.

A beautiful but dangerous stranger.

Even more when your father, once at the castle, reminded you that you would have to spy on your own husband and bring back the news.

Your father’s tone had been harsh and hadn’t admitted any reply, probably still a bit shaken by how easily you had let the heathen in your mind at the feast, but Alfred had softened the talk, thanking you again for ‘your sacrifice’.

‘A true martyr, princess (Y/N)’ he had even bowed himself to you, but you couldn’t help but shiver at his choice of words.

He had called you a ‘martyr’ as if you were doing this willingly and to defend the preciousness of anything holy, not to give your father and him a chance to defeat the invasion of Vikings who had come to avenge their beloved father.

In the end, they weren’t so different.

‘Goodnight’ you father had excused you, but had ordered two guards to follow you, enough to make you uneasy and unable to fall asleep, shielding yourself at the royal chapel connected to your castle.

Due to the late hour, there wasn’t anybody there, except the priest, the one who had baptized you and had known all your life, enough for you to make a smile shine on your face as Father Peter smirked softly at you, making you feel again as the child who asked him about your favorite saints.

“... ohh (Y/N), my child” he welcomed you, sending the guards a rather chastising look, as he immediately took in their weaponry “… and please don’t bring those weapons in my sanctuary”.

“But… we are meant to keep the princess under strict protection!” protested one, the younger one, probably wanting to make a good impression on your father, as the other quickly held him off, in order for him not to trespass the threshold of the sacred chapel, as you instead took a step forward to Father Peter, asking for a last absolution of all your sins.

‘… Father I sadly think that from tomorrow I won’t be able to worship God properly” you mumbled under your breath, as the old priest brought you to the confessional booth, bringing you far away from the guards spying eyes.

“True believers always find the chance to pray to our good and forgiving Lord” he replied sternly, because if you had known one thing about the old man was that his faith was faultless and what gave him the strength to go on with his small and wounded body “… and even if you can’t, God will accept you as a martyr of the faith, for what you are doing for this country”.

“So, you think that it is indeed proper for my father to send me off to a man I have never met, who worship the ancient gods and is known for his fury and recklessness in battle?”.

Although you knew the old priest couldn’t disregard your father’s orders you were looking forwards to somebody who wouldn’t simply tell you that it was your sole duty to the faith to get married and spy on prince Ivar.

“… is it proper and holy for God to give me a husband who is rumored to have killed many and many Christians?”.

“Oh, my child” huffed softly the man, as you arrived at the confessional “… didn’t our beloved Saint Orsola convert her pagan husband? She was also meant to marry a heathen, stranger to her customs, but they fell in love, my child”.

A blush covered your cheeks at the thought of your favorite tale.

Your mother had been called Orsola so when you were nothing but a child and she was pregnant with Abigail she would tell you the story behind her name and after she had passed away you had held onto that story with all your strength in an effort to make your mother stay with you.

“My father wants to make a martyr of me” you mumbled as you slipped in the jeweled confessional, a testimony of your father’s faith and wealth, and a secret deal with the old priest not to put religion before of his duty in the kingdom “… doesn’t martyrdom entail death? Why does God want to sacrifice me?”.

“We don’t know what God wants from all of us till he asks it” he replied, his tone stone cold and serious and you thought that maybe you had challenged him a bit too far “… but I don’t think that God is asking you to die for him, you survived and went through so many bad moments in your young life…”.

Your gaze became extremely caged at the memory of what the priest meant: your mother’s death and your father’s disinterest for you.

Father Peter had been always surprised by your curiosity and by the way you would be wandering in the chapel just simply to invent your own story of holiness and martyrdom.

“… I am scared, father” you mumbled, a chill running down your spine as you remembered the intense look you had felt on your back, when you had turned from Ivar to join you father to your horses, as the feast finished: there was a strange longing in his blue eyes, which you recognized in yourself.

It was the longing of a lonely child.

“There is nothing wrong with being scared, my sweet bird” he comforted you as he himself adjusted on the other side of the confessional booth “… marriage is difficult for various reasons, one that comes from a different culture has so many more difficulties, but you have the abilities to survive and cherish”.

You couldn’t help but feel like that was a lie, or at least you didn’t understand what these abilities Father Peter talked about were, exactly as you didn’t understand Ivar’s interest for you.

You were a dull portrait if you stood against your sisters’ beauty and livelihood.

You weren’t as smart as Kathleen.

You weren’t as nice and courteous as Abigail.

You just had your vast imagination and your gentleness, two qualities which wouldn’t have been useful in the kingdom of war.

“… now, my lost sheep, tell me all your worst deeds”.

Half an hour and five ‘Hail Mary’s later you were in bed, holding the covers to your chest as you already saw the pink dusk of twilight appearing behind the little holes of the heavy curtains in your room.

You couldn’t help but fall asleep with the thought that you hadn’t properly confessed all your sins to the old Pether, a bit ashamed for having kept to yourself the feverish emotion youhad felt towards the Viking prince, flowing through you in a sinful way that made you think that maybe… maybe you would have been a martyr in the throes of love.

* * *

You were waken up by two handmaids, smiling brightly and telling you ‘it was the great day’ and you were thankful that your father had accepted your proposal of having new handmaids for your day, since you were sure that the ones who had known you since you were a simple child would have cried alongside you.

These two instead did their job, chatting gingerly, probably not having been told who you would be marrying.

You just chatted back, although your voice didn’t hold any interested tone, since you couldn’t help but feel uninvolved by the entire process of your preparation as if it was a beautiful painting you were seeing and not yourself.

Your father had punished your arrogance of the previous night by not allowing your sisters to take part in the preparations, since they were busy ‘with their own dresses and jewels’.

And although you were a bit calmer due to having discovered your husband not to be monster and for Peter’s comforting words, you couldn’t help but feel a dreadful sensation in the pit of your stomach, hiding under your heart and slowly consuming it, speeding his beat.

Your hands grew cold and rigid and when you were helped in putting the dress you were thankful your father had also allowed you to wear a simpler dress to match the Viking ones, most importantly without a corset, falling tight onto your curves and ending up in a soft gown, all painted of white with small inserts of gold and silver silk to show your royal status.

Alongside the small crown that was pushed on your hand, entwinned with your mother’s veil.

Kathleen should have worn it before you, but Fate had wanted otherwise.

The veil was long and the only acceptable exception to the Viking model that had been allowed, falling down on your face and properly shielding it as it formed loose waves on your dress, almost shadowing your view and you had to be helped with it, both because of its length and both because of its thickness.

And once you were out you let it hang back, helped this time by your sister, so that you could properly hug them tight, feeling Kathleen release a light sob on your shoulder, as Abigail whispered softly about how beautiful you looked.

“You look like an angel” and you bowed lightly your head, red at the compliment.

You had to admit that you felt quite beautiful yourself, although you wouldn’t have compared yourself to an angel, feeling more like Sif, Thor’s beautiful wife with since the veil was encrusted with golden threads, that brought your hair to shine like wheat, exactly like hers.

“… you look like a beautiful prisoner” muttered beneath her breath Kathleen, making you take a sharp intake of breath which brought you to lower your head lightly, shifting your expression from happiness to sadness in a few minutes.

“ ‘Leen” you whispered lightly, meanwhile your sister refused to take another look at you “… it isn’t your fault”.

“But it isn’t also right!” she exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but agree.

But there wasn’t much that you could do about it, except accept your Fate with a smile and your hands open for whatever it brought.

“I know” your tone agreed with her, but your eyes were firm “… but talking like this won’t make this change… please, ‘Leen don’t make this much more difficult than it already is”.

And your sister succumbed to your last plead, hugging you lightly as you were brought apart by two guard, bringing a beautiful lady alongside themselves, a few years older than you and your sister, and you immediately recognized her by the expensive jewels she was wearing.

“Lady Claudia!” you bowed lightly as she did the same, right as she was in front of you.

She was the concubine of your father’s main advisor, a beautiful girl that looked like a jeweled princess whenever she would show herself up at court.

She had bore the advisor a son, enough to make her a lady with the blessing of your father.

Still you didn’t understand her presence there.

Was she being sent to wish you her congratulations?

Your marriage had been kept a secret, since your father secretly disapproved the thought of one of his ‘blessed’ daughters marrying a heathen, so you highly doubted she had come there without your father’s “suggestion”.

“Princess (Y/N)” she welcomed you as well, saluting your sister and then gently moving closer to you, in order to speak with you more privately and you allowed her, moving the veil away from you “… I wanted to come and congratulate on your wedding, and… discuss about some private matters which might concern your first night of marriage”

You immediately blushed, lightly nodding your head, meanwhile you adjusted the veil to shield you.

“Lady Claudia I’ll gladly enjoy a talk with you, although I don’t think that we could use too much time…”.

“I won’t take too much of it” she immediately replied, adjusting her hand onto your waist to lead you back inside but as your sisters stepped in to join you, they were promptly locked out by the lady.

“What…?” you asked worried, looking at the lady, who smirked softly at you, before sitting on top of your bed as you felt your sisters pounding against the doors.

“What I am going to say is meant to be heard only by future brides” she smiled at you softly, caressing the soft fabric of your bed “… I wouldn’t want to taint your sisters’ innocence”.

“And what about mine?” you muttered, not knowing whether you should trust that woman or not.

“if I can speak freely… that is something that your husband will do, tonight”.

The knowledge brought your face to quickly move itself in a frown, making you still in your steps as the other woman took in your nervousness.

“… princess (Y/N), it’ll be over sooner than you can expect” she promised you, but you weren’t in the slightest convinced, although you pushed yourself to sit beside her “… it won’t hurt you too much, if you do as I say”.

And she had told you about how it would go, how it was meant to hurt you because it would breach something inside you and that was when you would need relax your legs and body.

‘Don’t tighten around him, it’ll only make the situation worse’ she had continued, and then suggested ‘… once he is done and his seed is in you, make sure to keep something under your waist and your legs pushed up, so that it could take its seat in yourself… and soon you’ll be pregnant”.

The sole thought of finding yourself pregnant froze you even more on the spot and the grip of your fist tightened, as the tips of your fingers became white.

And Lady Claudia saw through this.

“… if you don’t want to end up pregnant, there is an herb that you might use: boil it as tea and it’ll make you bleed…” but Lady Claudia didn’t seem convinced “… but being pregnant might actually help you: men don’t hit pregnant women”.

You knew from indirect experience that wasn’t true, but lightly nodded, still you noted down the name of the herb.

You felt too young to marry, a child… it seemed so sudden that you would have preferred to bleed than to carry it.

Even more in your father’s damned plan.

“… if you don’t have any questions, I’ll blow you my goodbyes and will go to pray for you, my princess” she said, as she gripped your hands and pushed them in her lap, welcoming them there, as you felt yourself shift at the sudden contact “… it isn’t always so painful, sweet child”.

“How was yours?” you hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but the other woman didn’t seem to mind it, softly leaving your hands and getting up, adjusting her dress as she smoothed its wrinkles and pushed away the dust.

“Painful, I didn’t do it with a man that was kind with me” she spoke and you couldn’t help but see a bit more than the algid woman she had shown herself to be for the entire conversation “… he took it from me, without asking”.

There was so much pain in her words, that you gently held a hand out to her, in a small attempt to console her.

“I’ll pray that prince Ivar will not be like that with you”.

“I am not… he was gentle and kind with me at the banquet” you couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered at that memory, those beautiful blue eyes hunting for your smile, as you chastised him for his teasing ways “… but he is a Viking”.

“… and my first mas was Christian” she surprised and you couldn’t help but feel a bit shocked of the revelation: you knew that also Christian men were awful, there wouldn’t be wars, if they weren’t, but to denounce one so openly.

It took courage.

“Thank you again, lady Claudia” you muttered softly, as you made sure to look at her in the eyes “… and I am sorry if I…”.

“Your curiosity is not a fault, my dear” she simply replied, looking at you sweetly “:.. it is what makes you stand out, never ever let anybody make it a fault”.

And with a silent swish of her dress she ran out of the room, leaving you with that dreaded feeling of nothing biting your chest even more painfully.

And the surprises weren’t over.

Once the veil was again on adjusted on your head you were meant to ride in a chariot till the settled camping and there you would be married off according to Ivar’s gods.

And you were meant to be escorted there with your sisters and your father, but the man didn’t seem to be anywhere near and as you asked the guards they didn’t answer to you, till an handsome man appeared and moved to you, revealing himself to be bishop Heahmund.

You had thought he would have been too busy fighting the few rebel Vikings eft, but he was there and he looked at you, bowing and kissing your hand, although you didn’t understand his purpose there.

“Princess (Y/N), you look as gorgeous as your mother the day of her own wedding” you couldn’t help but be choked by the way he mentioned your mother “… we shall go, shall we not?”.

“I… we were waiting for father…” it was a weakness to call him ‘father’ and not ‘king’, but you thought you could be allowed to show yourself to be weak before you left your kingdom for… ever.

“Your father sadly won’t be walking you up the altar” proclaimed Heahmund, making you almost stumble on your own feet “… he has been taken aback by some important matters with king Alfred, I’ll be the one walking with you, your father thought it would be more fitting”.

And there you understood: your father hadn’t simply punished you withholding your sister, but also his presence.

Although you hadn’t a steady relationship with him, he knew how much it would have meant for you to have him walk you down the aisle, and he must have thought that he would punish you through leaving you alone, on your wedding day.

You were thankful for the veil as it shielded you from letting Heahmund see your hurt expression and you nodded and quickly got yourself in the chariot, adjusting the dress all around yourself, in what seemed like a loose hug of fabric, but still left you cold.

“… I’ll also remain with you, my princess, your father has told me about the plans to have you spy on prince Ivar…”.

That brought you to painfully swallow a breath, meanwhile you set your eyes on the window, hoping that it would bring you out of that akward conversation, to a place where there was no prince Ivar and you weren’t a princess but a beautiful bird, flying away from humans who wanted to cage you.

“… he thinks that you might need a friendly face there, alongside somebody who’ll protect you…”.

“It’s generous of him, isn’t it?” your voice dripped with sarcasm but Heahmund didn’t seem to mind it too much attention, adjusting himself beside you, in a small seat, since most of it was taken by the silk of your gown.

“… whenever you’ll feel unsafe, my princess, you can come immediately to me”.

You just wanted to turn to him and roll your eyes, but you simply pushed the tiny crown holding the veil further your hair, meanwhile you shifted away from him in the chariot, remembering that it took you at least two hours to arrive there, last night, according to the way the sun had shifted.

And two hours of Heahmund talking were your worst nightmare, in that moment.

You almost wished not to have forsaken the thought of bringing a book with you, worried about where you might leave it, so that you could have at least used it to calm your nerves.

“…I’ll obviously let you confess all your sins to me, if you have any need”.

“I already did, last night, and I don’t think that this morning I sinned more than simply wanting for a drop of milk more”.

Heahmund tried to laugh at your grim comment, as you shifted yourself to face the empty seat in front of you, imagining Abigail and Kathleen with you, in the carriage.

You had never been truly apart from them and the thought that from tomorrow you’d be forever apart…

It hurt you much more than you were willing to admit.

And then alongside your sister, shifted the image of Ivar: he had been a rather talented host, making you laugh and frown at him, as he made small talk with you, with the premise of exercising your Norse, although he laughed out loud whenever you would mispronounce a word.

Would he have been a good husband as much as he was a good host?

You hoped so, as you clutched your fingers tight in your hold and Heahmund finished his discourse, unaware you hadn’t heard half of it, as you fantasized about what it would have felt to be somebody’s wife.

Maybe you should have confessed him that feverish rush that went through you at that thought of the Viking prince.

“… your mother would have been proud of you” uttered Heahmund, the tone softening as everybody’s did whenever they talked about your mother: she had passed away a year after she had had Abigail, some complications appearing during her last pregnancy had brought her in a tired state that had obliged her in bed for entire days.

You were barely five and you didn’t understand much other than seeing your mother becoming as white as snow whenever she would be left alone, and although you hadn’t understood back then concepts such as ‘illness’ and ‘death’, you had known deep down that something horrible was going to happen to her

“I don’t know” you dared to speak up “… mother would have wanted me happy on my wedding day, married to somebody I loved and who respected me”.

You didn’t know where this aggressive streak had appeared.

Kathleen had always been the one who would have fought even a chair for bumping into her, whereas you were nothing more than the child that hid in the royal library till the end of your father’s rage.

Heahmund turned to you, surprised. and moved to take one of your hands, probably to comfort you, but you moved them away, gently passing them onto the leather of the seat.

“… maybe she should have been the one who lived and not my father”.

“That’s pure blasphemy!” exclaimed the bishop and you turned to him, finding that he had a boiling rage under his eyes, but unlike your father his hands stuck onto his body and didn’t dare to threaten you.

You weren’t sure if it was because he was an honorable man, or he had been instructed not to give the prince ‘spoiled goods’.

“… my mother would have been there beside me in the chariot and would have fought against the heathens” you spoke out again, but your voice more a whisper, lost in a fantasy you knew would never come true “… she would have loved me”.

And this time the bishop wasn’t able to reply.

Because in the end, it was the truth.

* * *

As you arrived, you were helped out of the chariot by Bishop Heahmund and rid onto a horse with him, since the chariot was to be left a bit away from the actual place to ensure the heathens’ and your safety.

The horse ride was silent, something for which you were thankful, and it permitted you to feel the air on your face in one last illusion of freedom you would lose as soon as you would dismantle from the horse.

You were glad that the Saxon court hadn’t been invited and only your sisters and the bishop stood as the last memory of a culture you wouldn’t belong anymore by tomorrow.

The crowd of Vikings already made the place too crowded.

And your dress became painfully tight around your chest, as Heahmund brought his hand in yours, gently gripping it.

You let him lead you through the small natural clearing they had chosen for your marriage, the open air reddening your cheeks, as you moved attentive to your long dress to avoid stumbling into it.

Ivar waited impatiently on his crutches, something told you that not only that wait was boring but also painful for him and tried not to drag this too long since you felt like he had already suffered enough.

And pain made men angry.

And he wasn’t an exception.

His gracious smile was now twisted in an annoyed frown and you couldn’t help but think about what you had displeased him in, as you always did when your father had a similar frown.

Beside him stood his brothers: the big bear, the two who had escorted you in and then beside them were two figures unknown to you, although you remembered them from the feast, but hadn’t heard of their names.

They were both men of your father’s age, their faces inked with tattoos, one with longer hair in a beautiful braid and a small crown atop his head.

He wore ceremonial clothes of a daunting color, whereas the one beside him matched him in some traits, enough to also make you perceive them as brother, but he had something darker to his brother’s arrogance.

Again, you thanked the veil which hid your small investigation, moving your gaze to your side where your sister stood, both in elegant Saxon fashion, although Kathleen’s gown seemed to be lighter than it was intended, almost matching yours.

She had a small smile on her face, although you knew it wasn’t of happiness, and Abigail had a more naïve smirk, looking at you amazed again.

Probably she was imagining that you were indeed an angel who had come down on Earth to convert a pagan prince.

Sadly, it wouldn’t have gone that way.

As your eyes shifted away from your sisters, the sight too painful for you, you moved onto the woman who would be officiating the ritual, something which surprised you.

From what you had gathered from your northern servant, Vikings allowed women alongside men on both the battlefield and positions of power, but you hadn’t expected them to also officiate ritual-

The woman that officiated yours was dauntingly beautiful, although old age wrinkled her face a bit, in a gentle way that made you take a sharp breath as you saw what was next to her, in a small basin: blood.

You had known something about the bonding ritual, and you had also been taught that blood was an important ingredient for an healthy ‘Viking wedding’, but you hadn’t expected to see it shown that bluntly, but tried to stand your ground as you were finally in front of the rudimental altar.

You couldn’t help but think about a completely different wedding, set up in the most beautiful chapel of your reign, everything golden and painted in a mixture of saints and devils: that’s how a Saxon wedding would have looked like.

And looking back at the beautiful nature you didn’t certainly regret it.

The ritual finally started as Heahmund lifted your veil from your face, pushing it onto your back, creating a beautiful tray as your crown lightly shone when it caught the light of the sun.

Ivar wasn’t wearing any jewelry, but he didn’t look any less handsome or regal than you and you couldn’t help but feel as always as a pretty doll with heavy jewels.

Heahmund sent you a last look, leaving your hand as he shot you a meaningful look which you didn’t know if you should have taken as ‘be careful’ or ‘do what you can do to make us win’, and then moved his eyes over onto Ivar, this time his gaze wasn’t as soft as with you, and you caught with the tail of your eyes his dark eyes painting themselves of a battle fury.

And with the smirk he gifted him, Ivar certainly hadn’t mistaken the message.

You faced softly the woman officiating the ritual, nodding lightly, and she started, as if she was expecting you to begin, chanting lightly in Norse, the pronunciation too fast that you couldn’t help but lose yourself a bit, but kept on remembering yourself to keep your body steady and hide any emotion, since the veil wasn’t hiding your face anymore.

You tried to relax yourself, as you moved around your feet in a more comfortable position, stealing glances to Ivar and tried to understand whether he was in pain or not, but he had modeled his face in a frown which you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t help but almost feel ashamed that he had shut you out.

The woman continued the discourse slowing it enough that you finally were able to follow her, and were amazed by the tells she told, before proceeding to link the two of you together, reaching out for the blood in the basin, gently splashing a bit on Ivar’s face, who was emotionless, except for a little bow to the woman.

And then she moved to you, a light smirk on your face and you commanded your body not to shrink at the liquid which accidentally also went in your mouth, making you grimace at the taste of it, but you willed yourself not to choke on it, proceeding to sink your nails in your palm, to keep calm.

There was this strange conviction going through your body, one last moment of faithful desperation, that if anything went smoothly and perfectly, Ivar’s gods and yours would have awarded you.

So, you kept yourself upright and nodded to the woman who then proceeded to dip two rings in the blood, as you spied Ivar’s family, trying to understand whether your ‘courage’ had won you any favor and both the big bear and the bigger of the other two seemed to have a genuine smile of happiness, meanwhile the smaller had a bored expression on his lips, making you smirk lightly.

At least you weren’t the only one dreading this wedding.

As Ivar took the ring, the slippery consistence of the blood brought it to slip, indeed, between his hands, falling on the grass.

Although you were well aware of the unholiness of such an omen, you immediately rushed to raise it, not wanting Ivar to tire himself, but a scream of frustration immediately stopped and you were impaled by Ivar’s anger, shining as brightly as a well-kept sword, and you immediately raised from your crouched position, justifying your distance from Ivar as a move to keep your balance.

But in reality, you were scared.

Lady Claudia’s story flashing through your eyes, and for a moment you just wanted nothing more than to turn again and run as fast as your legs would have taken you, because in Ivar’s anger there was a predatory stillness that brought fear coursing through your veins.

You swallowed a tight gulp as Ivar painfully crouched down and pushed himself up, his moan of pain the only sound in a crowd that had grown still and silent since the falling of the ring, which was placed without any grace on your finger, a gesture which hurt you even more than the careless contact.

Would he have touched you like that on your first night?

A shiver brought you to gently envelop yourself in your arms, some blood lightly dripping onto your dress staining, but you didn’t give it too much thought, stilling your hands to help yourself to put Ivar’s ring onto his finger.

If you had also failed …

…you didn’t know… what would have happened…

As you focused your gaze away from Ivar, you stole the sight of the other two unknown men on his side: the first one hadn’t dropped his arrogant smirk, but the other…

… the entire posture of his body had seemed to be still in the position of helping Ivar with the ring, meanwhile his eyes searched your face and for a minute you met them, a pity glance was sent to you.

And you moved your head to divert the fact that you had caught it, immediately slipping the ring on Ivar’s finger, with trembling lights, retreating them soon enough in your safe hold.

The woman smiled at you both and then a scream raised up from the crowd, effectively shocking you as every man and woman joined in in something that almost felt like a calling to you.

And then you understood that you had just signed yourself over to all of them.

* * *

You were secretly thankful for the banquet, since you couldn’t help but feel weakened by the absence of food in your body, again fasting due to nervousness.

But the feast was also useful to look around for who the Vikings truly were.

They almost seemed like Saxon in their joy.

A hand brought you back to the reality of the noisy exchange of food as your sister Kathleen gently sent you a worried look, probably since she had called out to you and you hadn’t answered her.

She had discarded the gown she was wearing the moment the ‘run of the bride’ had been announced.

Turns out you hadn’t been the only one informed about Norsemen’s traditions, and she had been burning up for a chance to prove to them that you, Saxons, weren’t weak creatures, and had done so when your father wasn’t there to witness her own savagery, challenging the brothers of your husband.

She had won, obviously and she had been sat on your right, meanwhile at your left sat Ivar, matching the hand where the bloodied ring was still shaking lightly on your finger, bringing a memory of the ceremony whenever the cold metal would clink against the table or burn with its coldness your hand.

“… is everything alright?” she asked softly “… we could tell them that you aren’t feeling well… and….”.

“Thank you for the concern, but I am perfectly alright” you comforted her, brushing softly your hand against hers, as you searched the inked man who had witnessed your wedding’s accident.

You still didn’t understand if his pity was a good thing or not.

But with no alleys you couldn’t be picky.

“… I might have to call the servants to bring us more water” joked Kathleen making you smile lightly, meanwhile your gaze continued its search, focusing on Abigail who was speaking to a Viking woman, congratulating her on the food.

Then your eyes focused on their own on Ivar and you couldn’t help but let out a small breath as you adjusted yourself, still burned by his coldness.

Somebody might have thought that you had almost slapped him with the way he had reacted when the ring had fallen on the ground.

You hadn’t meant to disrespect him and the childish withholding of any words towards you made you even more nervous, even more at the thought that you would have to share a bed with him very soon.

As if attracted by your gaze he came back to the table, having had to cheer up with some older Earls, who turned to you and raised their horns to you, as you did the same, with a small smile, knowing exactly how Ivar had justified your absence with them.

‘My wife is shy, wouldn’t want to scare her’.

Well he had.

And he seemed to realize it as you lightly moved a bit closer to Kathleen when he sat on the chair again, a scowl again forming on his face, but you were beyond relieved when he finally spoke to you, just as you were turning to Kathleen to ask her for more water.

“… you look gorgeous” the whisper burned the fear away from your veins and made you turn slowly to him, trying to keep yourself composed, not wanting to seem like a puppy happy at the first compliment he gave you.

Even more when he had been so downright awful with you.

“… like Frejya?” you mumbled, adjusting the veil behind you”… because I personally thought I looked more like Sif”.

“Are you comparing me to Thor?” he replied, although he was still scowling it wasn’t difficult to guess he was hiding a light smirk under that frown, mirth in his voice.

“No, husband you are Loki” you retorted, and something sparkled in those eyes, which lightly moved onto your lips.

He hadn’t kissed you after the wedding and you had been relieved by it.

But you wouldn’t know what you would do if he wanted to kiss you right now.

The conversation had certainly warmed your heart, but you didn’t feel any comforted after Ivar’s show.

“… then you are Sigyn, Loki’s faithful wife” he spoke, making you quirk an eyebrow in interest at him, as he slowly came to realization you didn’t know of Sigyn “… apparently I found something your servant hasn’t told you”.

“There is much she hasn’t” such as the fact that Vikings men could have a discreet silver tongue.

Your sister beside you grew agitated and you softly caressed one of her knees under the table, shifting your attention to Ivar, as if you were expecting the story, but the sweet moment was quickly destroyed by the presentation of gifts.

Each Earl and warlord had something for both you and your husband: the most common gifts were weapons for your husband and clothes for you, alongside jewels, and you were relieved that at least that hadn’t changed from your culture to the Viking one.

Then came the turn of the family exchange of gifts: your father and Ivar had agreed that your sister would give their gifts to him, whereas his brothers would take care of yours.

Your choice had quickly moved on weapons, knowing all too well that it was both a useful and welcomed gift: Kathleen had in her arms almost lulling it a wonderful exemplar of sword that she had claimed for herself the same moment she had seen it and had muttered.

‘Why do we have to give it to the barbarian? He’ll make a sacrilege of this beauty’ and you hadn’t known whether she was more annoyed with giving up the sword or the fact that it would have been probably left unused.

Beside her Abigail had a throwing axe, this time costumed the way Vikings used it, thanks to the collaboration of many soldiers who had described the cruel weapon to them in order to recreate it, preciously decorated with gems, hence a gift that couldn’t be used for anything more than show.

A clear sentence from your father to Ivar: I’ll have my peace and you’ll have your own treasure.

Ivar seemed to appreciate both of them, thanking your sisters in your tongue, meanwhile you shifted, as his brothers approached you, bowing in a teasing attempt at imitating the bows your sisters had donned to you and Ivar.

“Princess (Y/N) may you like our gifts” and the taller one moved first offering you what looked like an elegant cloth, still thick enough to be warm and soft e under your touch as you were unable to stop yourself from tasting with your fingers “.. my wife says that one thing that can never lack in a new home is warmth, and this is a blanket I hope will keep you and my brothers that”.

He had a smug smirk that clearly inquired that the blanket wouldn’t be the only thing that would keep you warm, but you smiled graciously, thanking him, thankful that Ivar also joined you in your thanks finally revealing his name to you: Ubbe.

And after him came Hvitserk, his present was definitely smaller and you were surprised as it revealed itself to be a book written in old Norse, which you found difficult to read since although you were able to speak, the different alphabet brought you a bit of difficulty, but you appreciated the challenge.

“… this is a warm welcome from our culture, sister” the way he said the last word was warm enough and the smirk that belonged to it was blissfully gentle, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit comforted and thanked him as well.

His name sounded foreign on your lips and Ivar laughed lightly at your pronunciation, gently repeating the name for you, as you clashed your teeth for the harsh syllables in it

Ivar laughed again, his laugh making you feel a bit ashamed of your ignorance, as Hvitserk seemed fighting with himself about whether he should have joined his brother or his newly acquired sister.

“Just call him Hvitty” suggested Ivar once his laugh quieted and Hvitserk sent him a light glare as Bjorn moved to present his gift “… or dog, since he is like one of those”.

Although you had nicknamed Bjorn ‘big bear’, you didn’t find any similarities between a dog and Hvitserk, but simply mumbled a quick apology to Ivar for your mispronounce, as the man turned with a light smirk to you.

“I was laughing because it’s adorable” and with a squeak he mimicked your tone, making blush lightly, meanwhile you retorted ‘that you sounded nothing like that!’.

He simply laughed louder.

And the sight of it brought relief to your heart.

“… I see that you already fight like an old-married couple” spoke Bjorn, the ‘big bear’, making you lightly push away from Ivar to face him, with your head bowed in a silent apology, as Ivar stood straight against him and you followed attentively the exchange.

“Would you know something brother? What about your marriage? You never let your bride grow old… don’t you…”.

Bjorn didn’t let the suggestion hit him and gently focused onto you, offering the elegant casket he had with himself, the wood a dark black that got you to examine it with trembling hands as a beautiful smell appeared from under it.

And when you opened it you found it to be revealing a beautiful glass of bottles, jeweled with a closing of gold as a pinkish liquid was inside of it, smelling deliciously, as it was set under a set of silk fabrics, big enough for three dresses at least.

“… one of the beautiful treasures I found during my travelling, I hope that they’ll be of your liking, princess” he spoke curtly, as you gently took the bottle in your hands, opening it to let a delicious smell flood through the entire table, enough to make your head spin, meanwhile your other hand softly touched the precious silks.

“This is truly…” although you were a princes you were used to luxury but… you weren’t used to exotic gifts the ‘big bear’ had brought you “… magnificent, thank you from the bottom of my heart”.

“I hope that your husband will find them to his liking once you wear them for him” he muttered, again the innuendos making your head spin even worse than the perfume “… the women from where I bought them told me that they would surprise their husband with nothing more than the perfume on their bodies…”.

“I think we got the idea, Bjorn” Ivar’s voice was harsh and he gently pushed an hand around your waist, surprising you enough that your knee stumbled against the table “… don’t scare my Saxon nride… they are shy and fearful of God”.

Bjorn didn’t look certainly displeased with the blush in your face and you were more than happy to simply hide yourself in Ivar’s chest, feeling his heart rushing through his cold words.

Next should have come the two inked men, but Hvitserk stopped them, having another little present in his hands, contained in a leather bag, which he pushed in front of his brother.

“Another gift… brother you flatt…”.

“It’s from Floki” something glacially cold appeared in Ivar’s eyes and he moved them away from his brother quickly, but you caught the melancholy in his eyes, disappearing in a flash “… he gave it to us, in case you got married… we weren’t certainly expecting…”.

Ivar impatiently stole it from Hvitserk’s hands, and you tried to steal a glance to what it looked like, what this mysterious Floki had gifted your husband, soon finding out it was nothing more than a small cube of wood.

Ivar seemed more surprised than you, before muttering:

“That old cunt…” you blushed at the course, but gently pushed your hand onto the cube, breaking the trance in which Ivar had fallen and you were almost scared he would have a similar reaction to the one he had when you had moved to reach for the ring, but he seemed more surprised you were interested in it.

And you quickly realized as you moved your hand onto it that it wasn’t anything more than a well-elaborated enigma, one of those games that were created for the sole purpose of making their owners crazy.

You didn’t understand what it meant for your wedding, but still thanked Hvitserk for remembering about it, as your hand slowly brushed against Ivar’s and you examined the small box in search of any secrets, but the rush and emotions of the entire day were making your brain hazy.

You gave out as Ivar did, eventually pushing it back in the leather bag and gently moved it to your side of gifts, something that made you almost smile, aware that he had caught your curiosity for it.

Next came the two inked men and the one who had sent you a pity gaze kept his eyes away from you, focused on his feet, meanwhile he let the man beside him speak, as he bowed to you both, but he didn’t look any less regal than Ivar.

“Prince Ivar and princess (Y/N)” he rolled out your name on his tongue as a foreign one “… may you have a blessed wedding”.

“Thank you, king Harald, are your blessings our gift?” Ivar seemed impatient and you gently adjusted one hand onto his chest to calm him, but it had no use, meanwhile the other man, the one who looked at you moved his eyes onto your hand, as if he was analyzing it exactly as you were doing with him.

The king smirked at Ivar, although you felt in it an edge of cruelness but he gently exited a beautiful bow from his back, as his brother moved himself to let him show the beautiful weapon: the riser and the bending made of bone, but it had been worked to be as flexible as wood, a bit heavier, but it might have helped as a shield if needed in battle.

You couldn’t help but admire that gift with your curious eyes.

You had never felt the need for a weapon for as long as you had lived, but you couldn’t help but be enthralled by the extreme beauty of that creation…

… and were even more dumfounded when it was moved towards you as the two men bowed to you.

You sent a look to Ivar, who hid well his surprise but simply sent you a small glance to tell you accept it.

You almost made it fell, since you hadn’t realized that it was so heavy but immediately stabilized the weight as you adjusted your feet on the chair, being smitten and you saw all the details in the bow.

And surprisingly on the riser there was a beautiful sculpture of a woman.

“I… this is a beautiful gift… king Harald” he smiled smug at your compliment, daring to put his hand onto yours.

“You are now the protector of the house, beautiful princess (Y/N)…” you couldn’t help but feel like that was implying much more than expected in your role as a royal pawn “… you’ll have certainly to take care of the house, but also to defend it, hence you need to learn how to fight”.

The sole thought of fighting was something that sent a chilled shiver through your spine.

You didn’t like the thought of it, but proceeded to thank king Harald again, promising him that you would have learned how to fight, although you couldn’t help but find it difficult to find somebody who would have taught such an art.

And beside you Ivar was sending dark looks at Harald, and it was unknown to you whether he meant them to scary the man off or because he had been personally offended by the gift.

You loved it, but what it entailed scared you and you were even more careful to handle it.

“Now you may as well as join the other guests” mumbled Ivar as the two tall men stood straight and with no intention to move, as again the older one provoked Ivar.

“Oh, but we want a kiss!” he mumbled softly, clapping his hand together “… you hadn’t had one and you are supposed to be a married couple”.

“… again my bride is shy…” tried to excuse yourselves Ivar, but it didn’t seem to work and you couldn’t help but blush at the insistence of king Harald, joining Ivar in his excuses.

“I don’t think that it would be proper…”.

But the entire crowd was looking at you expectantly, and Ivar decided to try, gently pushing his lips onto your cheeks in a bare caress that flustered you even more, as you adjusted yourself in the chair, one hand seriously reaching for your horn.

“… oh c’mon, Ivar! That isn’t a kiss!” protested Harald and you felt that also the crowd was displeased with your small exchange “… we want to see your pretty lips on hers, c’mon! Are you scarred her holiness will burn your lips?”.

The taunting was slowly getting to Ivar and you felt the rage reappearing in his gaze, as you moved yourself in your chair and did what you thought would cease all of this, completely shredding any embarrass you previously had.

You had heard of kissing from your servants: once hiding in the library, you had caught a group of them talking secretly about their lovers, and how they kissed them, making you aware that there wasn’t only a use of lips but also of tongue.

You didn’t dare with Ivar, pressing almost violently your lips against his and stealing, effectively, his breath, as he stilled at your sudden movement, and for a moment you were almost scared he had taken it as a personal offense.

But then he softened against you, circling your waist with one of his hands, meanwhile his lips adjusted against yours, separating from them as your noses brushed clumsily together.

A war cry was sent to the sky, as the crowd erupted in laughter and other ceremonial cheers and you were more than happy to shrink yourself away from Ivar, embarrassment painting your cheeks of red, meanwhile Ivar’s voice was barely roughed by your contact as he spoke about the blessing he had been given, having you as his bride.

The two inked men didn’t seem satisfied in the slightest of Ivar’s gesture, but they didn’t do much more than bow, a light annoyed gaze onto the older one, meanwhile the other smirked at you, and curiosity shone in your eyes.

He was curious about you.

Which might come indeed handy.

“… and since this day has proved itself to be so beautiful but yet so tiring, I think that me and my wife will retire to our chambers”.

The phrase stole all the breath in your lungs and you sent an immediate panicked look at your sister, Kathleen having a similar one, as Abigail tried to reassure you with a small smile, as Ivar held out his hand for you to grab, getting himself up with his crutches and you felt like throwing up all you had eaten.

You still didn’t let his offer linger too much, well aware that if the kiss had sated the hungry wolves, after the failure of the ring, you couldn’t dare a mistake and elegantly you moved behind Ivar, as he rumbled with his guards about what to do and you waited impatiently, sending guarded looks at your sisters.

Kathleen looked like she was solely stopped by Abigail’s tight grip from barging and pushing you in her arms and for a moment you wanted her to do it desperately.

Then Heahmund came at your back an evident reminder that you had a duty to finish.

Although that duty froze all your limbs and made your boiling blood disappear from your veins, replaced by utter fear.

You moved forward mechanically, almost as if you were being pushed forward by a rope wrapped around your hands and kept between Ivar’s.

Which was partially true.

Ivar suddenly turned around and you were petrified on your stand, his gaze piercing through you almost painfully and you expected him to tell you to run away, but then his features became lighter, till he had a simple annoyed look on his face.

“Why are you walking behind me, wife?” he asked, making you blush “… are you afraid that standing by my side might shame you”.

“No absolutely!” you couldn’t help but be instead the one annoyed by Ivar’s insinuation “… a wife always walks behind her husband in my culture”.

“I do think that is humiliating”.

You smiled lightly agreeing and he offered his arm to you, which, again, you didn’t hesitate to take, joining him, as he had a more satisfied expression, but you were well aware that your trembling didn’t stop as you were linked.

You quickly matched Ivar’s movements, which were quite fast for a cripple, but you were thankful because keeping a pace helped your mind off the entire situation.

A coldness had taken home in your bones and you couldn’t help but shiver lightly as you moved to your demise.

As you came to a stop, Ivar’s huge tent and you felt your stomach become taunt, as your breath was frozen by your own coldness.

Heahmund made a move to come nearer to you, but Ivar’s guards stopped him, as the crippled prince turned to him with a small smirk.

“It is in our tradition that the first night of weddings is witnessed!” spoke the bishop, making you blush, but the presence of a familiar face would have made you feel safe: he would have stopped Ivar if he had tried to take you too violently.

But Ivar simply shook his head, gently pushing you a bit closer to him by his hand.

“But you are not in England anymore” it wasn’t a simple remark, but it was an evident comment about how much the Vikings had conquered “… I think that it would make us feel more at ease to be left alone”.

You sent a desperate look at Heahmund who tried another time to get past the guards, but it was useless, so you just bowed your head and turned to follow your husband, till a scream brought you back.

Kathleen had managed to escape Abigail’s hold and had meant to come for you, but Heahmund had caught her again, and she was screaming all the worst she could, threatening Ivar against even scratching one hair on your head.

Ivar simply smirked, coming closer to Kathleen and you tried to stop him, but it was of no use, and you couldn’t help but fear for your sister’s life as the prince came close to him and your stubborn and beloved sister stood at him, challenging him openly.

“I won’t hurt her” Ivar’s tone was solemn, and it seemed to make Kathleen question herself, as he continued in perfect Saxon “… she is my heart and my queen, I wouldn’t do anything to displease her”.

And now that silence was again obtained, he marched inside the tent with you by his side and once inside you lost completely any intention of fighting back and realized that you could never go back.

“… would you like something to drink?” offered Ivar as he disappeared in the enormous tent, which surprised you as you took in a clean inside with an elegant assemble, weapons everywhere but what soon caught your attention was the enormous bed, shielded from anything else by a gracious wall in perforated iron.

As you saw it, you immediately remembered lady Claudia’s words.

‘Lay down the bed, immediately after shielding your clothes, but keep on your nightgown and wait there till he comes to you, you either will do this or he’ll do it for you, and believe me if you show to men that you are obedient they’ll treat you better…’ she had explained, and you raised away from your body a few layer of clothes, till you were left with your nightgown, following her suggestion ‘… keep your legs closed, men like whores and pious women at the same time’.

You gently laid onto the bed, adjusting yourself in a comfortable position as you closed your eyes, waiting for him as other words about your first night flew into your mind with lady Claudia’s soft voice.

‘… if he is a good and experienced man, he’ll realize that he needs to prepare you for it: he’ll kiss you and take his time, till your nest will be wet enough for him to slide easier inside you’ that’s when you had started to blush desperately, as a tingling sensation settled in your stomach.

You wouldn’t have pushed away the thought of Ivar kissing you: the memory of your last kiss came back and you were able to enjoy the softness of his plush lips and his shy movements.

‘… if he isn’t a good and experienced man, he’ll take you dry, maybe using his spit to slip inside you, in this case, it won’t be pleasurable’ any romantic scenario you had set up in your head vanished completely at that notion ‘… in that case, think of being elsewhere, with your sisters in the castle or in a beautiful magical land. It’ll make time pass faster and the pain will only take your body not your own mind’.

And you couldn’t help but keep a tighter grip onto your head as you prayed to your God one last time for your husband not to be that man, not to touch you with violence, forcing himself in your body.

Tainting it, not with his heathen seed, but with his heathen violence.

You waited and you counted, and you prayed, but you couldn’t help but feel like nothing was happening and sneakily opened one eye to find Ivar looking at you sat on the small chair beside the perforated iron wall.

“Is my bed comfortable enough for you, princess?” his mocking tone made you tremble due to embarrassment and you shot him a warning look, although you were well aware of lady Claudia’s suggestion to keep yourself ‘tamed’ for your husband.

“… wonderfully comfortable, my prince” your voice was mostly docile, but Ivar didn’t seem to ignore the sarcastic undertone smirking lightly “… why don’t you join me?”.

“(Y/N) we are not going to have sex”.

You didn’t know what sounded stranger, as you immediately pushed yourself up again in a seated position at his words: your name with the way his light accent distorted or the news that you wouldn’t be having…

“We are not… ahem…?”.

“No we are not” Ivar’s voice had gone quickly from cheery to grim and immediately you realized that he was quite prone to mood changes “… I think that you have heard the many rumors about my inability to… raise up to the occasion”.

Your eyes set again on your hands and you didn’t know whether it was to hide your knowledge of his ‘flaw’ or because you were ashamed of the entire talk.

And weren’t able to feel relief at that confession, as if the realization that you wouldn’t be tainted by a heathen hadn’t still fallen onto you.

And almost as if you were almost disappointed nothing would happen.

You should have definitely talked with Father Pether for your sinful thoughts.

“… that is why I didn’t allow them inside” he explained, meanwhile he also avoided looking at you in the eyes “… and this is why we need to settle down a few things about this marriage”.

Your attention immediately perked up.

“I am well aware this isn’t something wanted by both parties” and he sent you a meaningful look that petrified you on that post and you weren’t able to simply do nothing more than silently swallow your breath “… but I hope that if we can’t have love for each other, we can at least have respect between us”.

You couldn’t help but think that he spoke like your father did when he was making administering decisions, but with a tone that you couldn’t help but detect as lightly awkward and shy.

“…what I ask of you as my wife is simple support and honesty: don’t go behind my back and I won’t bother you” it almost felt like a threat and you couldn’t help but stand a little bit taller on your own as if you had taken it like a personal challenge “… that is all I ask of you, (Y/N)”.

He wanted you two to be cordial strangers as many royal couples were in reality, at least in yours.

There was such a sadness in his offer that you couldn’t help but feel your heart tighten as your stomach became relaxed and it finally proceeded the realization that you were safe… for now.

“Then I do think that we have a deal, Ivar”.

He seemed surprised by the way you spoke back his name, but hid it, quickly as he moved from the chair towards the bed, although he settled far away from you, almost as if he was the one scared by you.

You wanted to ask him more about why he had chosen you, if he had known that you would have never loved him.

The contract he had made with your father wasn’t certainly profitable for him as it was for your father, and you weren’t certainly the typical beauty that had made thousands of boats turn.

“… now we have another problem” he spoke slowly as he exited a blade from his belt and you couldn’t help but still in your movements a small rush of fear appearing in your eyes, meanwhile Ivar tutted lowly his tongue at your scared face “… I told you that I wouldn’t have hurt you without a motive, little princess, haven’t I?”.

“I am just not used to men holding blades this close to me” this time you were definitely sarcastic, although anything in you screamed for you not to tease the beast, who crooked his eyebrow at you as he smirked, moving the blade away for which you were thankful.

“I am not going to hurt you, but they will be disappointed if they don’t find blood, because it’ll mean we haven’t consumed the marriage”.

You were grateful he hadn’t mentioned the other option: that you might have been sent to him impure and already spoiled.

But what he was saying was true: you had to prove the consummation or both your rules and his would have made the marriage illegal, hence it would have been annulled.

And if he didn’t intend to do his job you had to succeed in other ways.

Painful ways, as Ivar sliced his palm in a quick motion, not even seeming to perceive the pain as you rushed to him, worried, but he pushed you away, instead motioning for you to throw away the blankets and fur in order for him to release the blood onto the mattress.

And a few drops fell, although you were sure that they wouldn’t have been enough, but you immediately saw the way Ivar’s eyes hazed as blood flooded freely from his veins and without too much knowledge you took a small part of your wedding dress and lightly pushed it against the cut, closing it with a quick knot, the pressure stopping the blood from flowing.

You also remembered yourself to try to wet it and clean the wound, in order for it not to get infected.

You always did this to Kathleen whenever your father would hit her.

It was in your nature, according to her, to care for others.

Ivar looked at you surprised and then at the small portion of blood, a sign that it wasn’t enough, and you realized that if you wanted this relationship to work, you had to sacrifice a bit.

You took his blade from the hand and cleaned it carelessly onto your nightgown, where you ripped a long strip of fabric for later, before slashing also your palms.

Unlike Ivar you moaned in pain and the cut was less precise, but it managed to fill the small stain on the mattress, immediately trying to cover the wound with the fabric.

With the way you had cut yourself, you were pretty sure there would be a scar on it.

But what burned in you was Ivar’s expression.

You didn’t know whether he was looking at you with curiosity or with respect, but he was completely smitten with you.

And you quickly got yourself up, unused to such intensity, the red on your cheek matching the red onto your nightgown, which caught your eyes.

“May I change into something other than this nightgown?” you asked softly, and Ivar quickly nodded.

“I could ask for one of the guards to grab you another nightgown…” but this would mean waiting with the stain of blood that lightly brushed against your legs and the sight of it alone made you a bit dizzy “… or I could lend you a tunic of mine”.

And although you were aware that it was rather inappropriate, you nodded at his second idea.

You tried to justify as an attempt to mimic their freedom.

Ivar gently pushed himself onto the ground and there, without the help of the crutch he had left unattended on the other side of the bed, and he crawled to a small wardrobe, slithering around like a snake, although you didn’t fear him, in the slightest.

He gently pushed the tunic in your hand, as you crouched lightly to take it.

“… thank you” you mumbled, meanwhile he ignored your words, simply gesturing you to the small separated area where he told you would have water and a bit of privacy for which you were extremely grateful

You changed taking quite your time, finally able to have a moment alone.

And there you couldn’t help but break down, as you lightly crouched down, feeling your body release all his tension as you hugged your legs to your chest, compressing all the air in your lungs to let it out in a deep breath as you counted the time passing.

Counting always helped you to stay focused and this was enough to allow you to calm down a bit, as you reminded yourself that you were now safe, and Ivar wouldn’t have touched you.

You were away from home, but tomorrow you would have seen your sisters…

… one last time.

But it was enough to hold you tight and with your head high and you slipped the tunic over your head, pushing the dirty one away as you washed at last your hand.

You left some water for Ivar, bringing it with you as you joined him in the main room, but he was already asleep, in the bed and you didn’t have the heart to wake him up, alongside the fact that the thought of doing it… made you nervous.

So, you carefully just adjusted the water basin on the table and sat yourself down on the chair beside it, using partly your dress as a blanket.

You gently adjusted it onto your body, as tiredness took over you, in a peaceful slumber.

One day had passed, now all eternity remained.


	3. The Faithful Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in an arranged wedding isn’t easy, even more when your ‘beloved husband’ does everything he can to annoy and ignore you.

##  _The Faithful Wife_

_I know that I can survive  
Outside this cage  
Maybe now I can fight through  
All this rage  
_

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=MDljMTJmZjc5MzExMTE3NGM5MTY4Y2I2MGM2NmZmNmU3NmQyMjgyYSxpTzNUTTdVeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190738105989%2Fto-kill-a-king&m=1) _

You were lightly woken up by two hands shaking you awake, as you slowly took in the coldness of your room, confused by it, usually handmaidens always made sure to have your room warm solely for you.

But as your eyes were awaken enough to focus on something, you realized this wasn’t your room.

And the hands that were shaking you to wake you up weren’t your handmaiden’s.

They were Ivar’s.

Surprise and shock must have shown on your face and he lightly backed off, although his glare was directly set onto you, waiting for you to simply open and close your eyes a few times before he spoke.

“… my brothers they’ll soon be there…” you mind still didn’t link it at all “… it would be more proper for our play if the found you in bed with me”.

You simply nodded, meanwhile you tried to calm yourself, getting your wedding dress clumsily away from your body as you moved towards the bed, more out of search of warmth than because you were following Ivar’s rules.

Certainly, your sense of pudor wasn’t working in that moment, hazed by sleep.

Ivar let you slid in first, a way to make you feel more comfortable as you were attentive to the blood stain in the middle of the mattress, shifting away from it, as you slipped under the warmth of the furs and Ivar did the same, at first pulling himself in a seated position, and then lifted off his legs, pushing one after the other onto the mattress.

You stared at him captured by the way he moved.

It was something that fascinated you: he was definitely stronger than he let in showing new abilities that brought you to admire him more.

And your eyes couldn’t certainly hide their interest for the way his muscles flexed lightly.

Ivar then brought the blanket onto both your heads, and you were glad that it allowed you two a bit of darkness, covering your blush for the acute exploration of his body you had delved into a few minutes before.

And it didn’t take long to hear a few screams from the outside, mostly males, and you couldn’t help but hide more as Ivar shouted back to them, something that you didn’t understand so you thought were curses.

But soon the tent flapped open, revealing various smirking males, as Ivar lowered the blanket from both your heads, showing him and you as you lightly shifted closer to him, uneasy at so many new faces, although you remembered a few from the feast.

“… brother come on don’t be shy!” muttered Hvitserk, as Ubbe had a similar wolfish look in his eyes, but you quickly noticed that Bjorn, the big bear was missing.

Heahmund was also there, looking out for your face as you calmed softly yourself to try to appear as a bride after her first night, although you soon remembered that you were also a fearing and beloved daughter of God.

The soft smile disappearing on your face for a chaste and constipated expression.

“We’ve all seen your naked ass” retorted beside him Ubbe, and you were thankful they were teasing Ivar and not you, although he was slowly growing stiff right next to you “… c’mon brother you know that it is only a formality”.

But as your mind became more awake, you soon realized that they were all looking at Ivar expectantly, ready to humor his failure, which they took as granted.

Flashbacks to the previous night brought you the knowledge that maybe… just maybe they knew that Ivar couldn’t…. complete the action.

And they would beam in his inability.

Which you couldn’t help but frown upon.

Katherine and Abigail would tease you all the time, but it was done in a gracious way that would always make you smirk, in the end.

Not tighten your jaw, as Ivar was doing, meanwhile Ubbe moved forward and after he waited for a slight nod from you, he raised the blankets away from you both.

The coldness of the room suddenly hit you, and you leaned lightly against Ivar, him even going a step further as he drew you closer with an arm, as if to shield you, for which you were grateful since you were suddenly aware of your naked legs, left uncovered by your tunic.

No man, not even your father had seen you in such an undressed state.

And now a load of them were.

Ubbe searched the mattress and then he found the stain.

Surprise shone onto his face as if he hadn’t expected the presence of blood and he shot you both a confused look to which Ivar replied to with a smug smirk, softly grabbing onto your lower waist, in a show of possession that brought you to shiver lightly.

“Brother did they…?” Hvitserk left it unsaid and Ubbe turned to nod, again moving to you and Ivar one last shocked look, as you tried to stand taller.

“We did it, brothers” Ivar replied, again that smug smirk of supremacy on his face as he adjusted better on the bed “… now will you leave us alone, won’t you?”

The brothers stood a bit clumsily in the room, their tall frames almost too big for it in a way that made you almost laugh.

“Let’s leave the happy couple to their rest, now that we have proved that the wedding is legal” replied softly Heahmund, probably sensing your distress, for which you thanked him with a small look on his way as Ivar turned his back to them, trying to move back to sleep, in an obvious fake attempt to ignore all the ‘witnesses’.

Soon they all left the room, following Heahmund’s suggestion and giving you a moment of privacy as servants brought in some of your trunks for which you were thankful, because the tunic you were wearing wasn’t as covering as your usual nightgown, and alongside the trunks, new clean water was brought.

The basin you had used to clean your hand stood unused at the top of the table but the blood in it made it definitely too dirty to be used.

You were thankful as the servants brought it away, without any questions.

Ivar got away from bed, awake like you, but left you the little private room to change as you chose a quick dress, something that you wouldn’t need to help of servants to put on, well aware that you couldn’t do much without them.

The dress you chose was simple, not proper for your princess’ status but you would wear it whenever you hoped to pass off as discreet and for something comfortable: it had a first gown of white fabric and one of heavier fabric onto it of a darker color, all linked through a series of hooks.

And the behind of it had threads that just needed to be nodded together in order to obtain a tighter silhouette in a way that, according to Abigail, brought out your waist… and breasts.

You mostly liked it because it didn’t have a corset and it wouldn’t crush your chest and lungs, allowing you fuller movements, not heaved down by the richness of the jewels that decorated your most lavish gowns.

As you slipped on the gown, you moved onto wearing some leather boots, again a comfortable attire unsure of what Ivar would have you doing, today and trying to minimize the time you spent undressed.

Although the knowledge that Ivar wouldn’t take advantage of you calmed you a bit, you still felt uneasy being undressed in a room with another man, aware that he might come out of the bath anytime and catch you naked.

Although he wasn’t a simple man.

He was your husband.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the small ring you were wearing the band plainly attached to your skin, as it shone of light silver through the sun filtered by the tent.

It wasn’t simple, having a light decoration on it, a serpent eating its tail, in a circle.

You tried to remember where you had seen a similar drawing but again, sleep clouded it and soon Ivar appeared on the bathroom threshold, breaking you away from your thinking as you quickly closed your trunks, trying to shield Ivar from seeing the small knife your father had given you.

It hadn’t been there in your trunks when the servants had prepared them, and the shock of seeing it gave you a thrill.

You father had talked of you as a spy among the heathens, not a murder.

It went against your nature as a fearful Christian and your own nature as a timid and fragile woman.

As soon as you had caught the sight of the weapon, you had immediately hidden it under some rich fabric, hoping that Ivar’s guards wouldn’t go through them meanwhile you were away, locking them properly as Ivar approached you.

Once you were done you turned to him, waiting to know more, since he had been the one who had directed your threads since you had come there, and would forever do soon till death did you apart.

But Ivar promptly went past you as if you were a ghost, not even deigning you of a glance, as you obtained one solely as your hand shout out for one of his arms, making him turn to you.

He seemed almost bothered, not the smug boy who had cuddled you closer to his chest just a few minutes before.

He was certainly a good actor.

“… I… what am I to do?” you mumbled, immediately regretting your silly words, sounding too much as a plead as irritation was written all over his face “… we are married, we should enjoy married life”.

You tried to sweeten your words as much as you could, your hands lightly caressing his arms, something that you had dreamed to do since you had first seen him, finding them as muscled as you had believe them to be, throbbing under the strength he used to keep himself upright.

“… you might as well, wife of mine” his tone had something sickly sweet that made you quickly understand he was teasing you “… I am the leader of an army, I don’t have time for such thing as ‘enjoying life’, we are going back to Kattegat in four weeks, enjoy the time in the camping”.

You couldn’t help but be lightly stung by his words as you lowered your head nodding, leaving your grip as he moved away, two guards appearing on the threshold, one following Ivar outside and another remained on the threshold an obvious show that he would be staying with you.

You sent him a smile, although in your heart burned the humiliation Ivar had put you through.

He talked about respect but treated you like that.

How could you trust him?

Thankfully you weren’t left to your own devices for long, because you heard a miscellaneous language of Saxon and Norse, and then your sister Kathleen peaked in the tent, sending you a worried look, and in that moment slow tears streamed down your face and she bolted to you, almost throwing you down onto the bed.

“… (Y/N)!” she cheered as Abigail joined you, with no less energy and effectively sending your body to smash onto the bed, covered again by furs to hide the blood for which you were grateful “… you are still alive and smiling, oh sweet sister!”.

“Was he gentle?” went straight to the point Abigail, her eyes curious as she set up on her heavy dress, coming closer to you “... his brothers told us, that you did… your marriage was consummated”.

Immediately Katherine searched your eyes as you clutched your hands tighter on your lap, as a blush creeped from your neck to your cheeks, and you sent a quickly look to the confused guard, probably not understanding the giggles of three women.

Katherine realized what you were thinking about and she lightly shook her head.

“He doesn’t know Saxon don’t worry”.

“We didn’t… consummate the marriage” you talked too fast to make it impossible for the man to even understand you had spoken “… he told me we would never…”.

“Then it is true that he can’t get it up!” replied immediately Abigail, making you and Katherine quickly shut her up as you both sent the guard a small look, checking on him whether he had understood but he just looked at you vaguely, wondering what you were talking about.

“… I don’t know… we didn’t talk… I didn’t ask” you couldn’t help but calm yourself lightly “… he asked me respect him as a husband and he would do the same with me, as his wife”.

“Then why isn’t he here?” Katherine’s tone was piercing, and she slowly took your hands, clutching them together as you send them a protesting look “… we could still run, live in the woods as we joked when we were children”.

“We wouldn’t last a day, Katherine” you had trouble simply dressing yourself up, and this would mean to ruin the peace your wedding had created “… I would, believe me I would love nothing more, but this is my life now, and I better start liking it”.

“I just… I just wished it wouldn’t have been you” you held an hand out to Abigail who had spoken softly.

Although she didn’t have the protectiveness that belonged to Katherine, she knew how to sweeten everything with her gentle personality, something which brightened softly your smile as you led them in a quick hug.

“I don’t know how I’ll be able to live without you” you had lived with them all your life, they had been the sole friends you had had, too awkward and shy to attempt a smile or a smirk at anyone that wasn’t your family.

You couldn’t believe in a life without them.

“… we don’t either” mumbled Katherine, tears seeped in the deep fabric of your dress, but you felt like it was some kind of badge of honor.

“Can’t think that I won’t have you waking me up, whenever I run late” replied instead Abigail, making you laugh through tears “… you aren’t gone for ever still, are you?”.

You hoped you wouldn’t, but with the knowledge that you would be going back to their original land you couldn’t see a reason for you to go back to your kingdom, another time.

But who knew? By then you might have charmed your husband.

And donkeys would have flown.

“… we are never ever leaving each other, although we may be apart, oceans away, we are never away in each other’s heart” as you said so your hands linked to their hearts, feeling them rush as they slowed down calmed by your words.

They both smiled softly, and before they could hug you again you heard a distinct cough and found bishop Heahmund and Hvitserk looking at you, expectantly in a clear way to tell you that your time had come to an end.

And you slowly let go of their hands, your eyes teary as well as those of your sisters as they collected themselves calmly, turning around to face with neutral faces Hvitserk and Heahmund, the bishop trying to smile to brighten the mood, although he himself was lightly moved by the scene.

Katherine sent you one last look, blowing you a soft kiss as Abigail, gripped her hand, understanding she had to be her rock, for the time being.

Hvitserk still stopped your sisters before they could completely exit the tent and you worried suddenly for a minute, scared that they might have discovered something, but then he moved something from behind him, revealing the sword your sisters had gifted Ivar, adding a quick whisper in Norse you caught, and with a small smile you translated.

“He says that prince Ivar saw the way you looked at the sword, and that he wouldn’t dare to steal it from you after he has already stolen a sister” the entire discourse was grim, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture Ivar had done.

Katherine had loved the sword from the moment it had come out of the furnace, looking at the polished metal as it elegantly swished against the air when she handed it so so carefully, attentive to avoid hurting anybody around her.

Father had given Katherine a military and weaponry training but had never allowed her to own a sword, knowing perfectly well that this would have put Katherine in an upheld position, almost as his equal, and your father hated with all his heart to be overtaken.

That’s why he had tried to keep desperately his children beneath him, training and educating solely his heir, meanwhile he left his other daughters ignorant, having them treated as perfect ladies, left in the hands of unknown governesses, pushed in small corsets and tight dresses.

He had made you and Abigail grow up as perfect wives and mothers.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Not to be heard or feared till they were useful.

As in your case.

You sent one last look at Katherine, who nodded lightly and bowed to Hvitserk lightly, a dull excitement in her eyes as she exited alongside Abigail, casting you one last soft look, a wish of ‘happy wedding’.

Heahmund in the meanwhile walked around the room, taking in the stain of blood, rushing back to you as Hvitserk moved to accompany your sisters, leaving you privacy with the bishop although he shot him a direct glare to invite him not to try anything.

“… my princess, was the heathen…” he immediately rushed to ask, softly touching your body as you allowed him to do the same “… violent with you? I know the marriage was consummated, despite the rumors about your husband’s… inability”.

“He wasn’t” you lied, aware that you were lying to a man of faith “… it was… a quick matter and soon over”.

You didn’t know what to mumble, not being experienced on that matter and having to formulate some kind of rational discourse on it.

You ran through lady Claudia’s small talk of the previous day trying desperately to find something that might convince him of your relationship with Ivar.

“… he wasn’t too rough with me and it hurt just for a bit” you replied softly, keeping your voice in check to hide the lie better “… he was careful and attentive”.

“That doesn’t seem the Ivar I met on the battlefield” he commented tightly and you were worried it might have given out your lie “… but I am glad that he has a softer side for his rightful wife, my princess, you have quite charmed him”.

You nodded your head simply, as you tried to avoid saying too much that might give you out.

“… I now have to get your sisters back to security but I’ll be back before nightfall, please be attentive and safe, my princess” you almost wanted to protest there and then that you were in danger because of them, not because of any of your action.

If you could, you would be in a convent with your precious books and your sisters beside you.

But again, you nodded, adjusting yourself on the bed as Heahmund gave you a soft kiss onto the palm of your hand.

As Heahmund exited the tent, Hvitserk came back in it, and took a quick look at you, which you returned shyly but questioning, wondering whether you would be allowed outside the tent or Ivar would keep you as a mighty dragon, storing you as a treasure.

But at least that would mean he thought you were precious.

“Is everything alright, princess?” although Hvitserk had a teasing smile on his face, the way he talked seemed genuinely concerned “… feeling cold?”.

You weren’t properly cold but you had shrunk back into yourself, clutching your hands around your body in a tight hug more to comfort yourself as the feeling of loneliness set in your heart.

“A bit” you justified yourself as the man moved closer, something that made you back lightly on the bed, suddenly making you realize that you were in a cove of enemies, and although your brain wanted to do nothing more than to trust anyone, your common sense advised you against that.

“We should get you some better clothes” he mumbled looking at your flimsy dress, certainly not the highest example of style, but it was comfortable and easy to put on, not necessarily warm still, and you weren’t used to exiting the castle, at least without an heavy coat of woolen, which would stop the coldness “… in Kattegat is cold and we don’t need you to get sick at your first Winter there”.

And Hvitserk had guided you outside to the small market brewing in the camping, surprising you for the organization of the entire structure, making your eyes widen as you took in the sight of the exchange between cultures.

You had worn a light cloak that Hvitserk had lent you, which was a bit too long sometimes entwinning in your legs, and you were grateful you hadn’t worn a more complex gown.

Extremely grateful it would avoid you from falling face first in the mud.

Your eyes darted over the small stalls, as Hvitserk chatted cheerily with anyone who stopped him, all the people around you staring discreetly at you in a way that almost made you want to hide your face with the hood of the cloak.

You were well aware that half of them had witnessed your marriage to Ivar and your different traits wouldn’t certainly pass unobserved, but you had hoped to attract less attention this sudden.

You tried to shift your attention on the small trinkets that were sold, being extremely interested by the creation of the blacksmiths, beautiful jewels and small statues, relatively more modest than your jewels but they held a particular fascination for you.

As the man saw you staring at his creations, he puffed out his chest but kept his distance as Hvitserk graciously took your arm to guide you away, pushing you onto a stand that smelt… horridly.

Furs weren’t much in vogue in your court, since they were thought to be vulgar and popular, mostly if not properly treated, and you could understand since the smell wasn’t pleasant and you had to take a deep breath as Hvitserk calmly talked with the lady who was taking care of stalls.

She was a small old lady, her hands worked through years of treating furs, in a way that made them extremely wrinkly but beautiful for the stories they told, almost a thread of magic and skin.

She smiled at you, with no knowledge of your status, with a warmth that seemed damnably familiar and homely and you just smiled back as the woman moved to collect a few furs from behind his stalls as Hvitserk told you her name was Hilde and she had been working furs since she was as small as she was now.

‘She is the best! You’ll be warm don’t worry”.

You were thankful for Hvitserk’s cheery and mindless tone, since it helped you focus your mind away from Ivar’s rejection and your sisters’ departure.

As Hilde came back, she held two beautiful furs in her hands: one was smaller, having an orangey color tending lightly to red, a color which complimented your skin according to Abigail.

It was probably made out of fox fur and it had be linked into a cloak to protect the neck and the shoulders from coldness.

She pushed it onto your shoulder, having you bowed slightly for her in order to permit her to comfortably place it there, adjusting it with a few pins, in a provisory set up, before she pushed you next to the mirror in the stall, allowing you to set yourself.

You hadn’t seen yourself after the veil had been pushed on your face since Ivar’s room didn’t have any mirror, and you couldn’t help but follow for a minute your profile with your eyes.

You found it changed from the anonymity you always saw in the mirror, almost as if you were now looking at every stain or spots in your skin, almost wanting to dig your fingers in the skin to find out if it were you.

You were brought down from your inner thoughts by Hilde, asking if you liked the first piece, and as you nodded, she exchanged the first piece with a fuller fur, completely covering your frame, weighting heavily onto you, but its warmth was very much appreciated as it hugged tight keeping you calm and sated.

Hilde lightly pulled on the end of the dark furs, painted lightly with red reflexes something which shone even brighter in the light.

“They are both beautiful!” you exclaimed, honestly heard in your tones as the small woman smirked happily at you, twirling in her comfortable leather shoes, as she went back to show you more, eventually filling you with also leather corsets and a few cloaks, this time, of your height.

You couldn’t help but see the total pile up in front of you, almost worried about how you would pay it.

Your father had gifted you with a few coins to help you mostly in case anything happened to you, but you didn’t feel like letting Ivar pay for your dresses, because it made you uneasy to depend on him.

Although you saw no other solution.

As you asked Hilde to start choosing what you truly needed and you didn’t, she stopped you, baffled and almost offended, as she put her hand on her chest.

“… these are gifts for the future queen” she explained slowly, each word being spitted out with its pure meaning, making you open your eyes wide, not solely for the mention of the word ‘queen’.

“I can’t accept this, Hilde! It is too much!”.

As a princess you were used to gifts of any kind, but you felt like stealing from this people, taking away their precious goods without any retribution.

You didn’t have a high enough place there to do such a thing.

These people weren’t the cruel and calculating spies of the courtiers that populated your reign, they seemed genuine and gentle.

It felt like taking advantage of their gentleness.

“… take it, sweetheart” her voice was gentle, pushing the furs in your hand as you shook your hand and Hvitserk gently helped Hilde with the furs, murmuring something in Norse too fast for you, but the woman seemed to calm, taking the furs from you “… let me have the honor of gifting some of my masterpieces to the future queen”.

Again, you were confused and embarrassed by the mention of you as a ‘queen’, but nodded softly thanking her and letting Hvitserk handle everything else, since you felt like you were a complete stranger to these traditions.

He contracted swiftly with the old woman, who mumbled something about sending you the furs in your tent, so you didn’t have to carry them for the entire city.

“… thank you” you mumbled one last time, meeting her determined stare, as she moved towards you a bit too close for comfort and gently pulled on your cloak to make you lower yourself.

“You are more special than you think, little one”.

You were almost thankful when Hvitserk dragged you away, feeling lightheaded by the way the woman had talked to you.

As you were again in the crowd, Hvitserk calmly spoke:

“I’ll Ivar drop some coins to her tonight or this afternoon, don’t worry” he promised, talking as if it was natural and you couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed.

“I can… I have some spare money” and jewels, too many for your liking.

“You belong in our family” he spoke again, as if it was natural to him as breathing, turning to you with a soft smirk “… you are my family now, so what is our is yours”.

The truthfulness of his words broke your heart in a way that made you feel even more ashamed for the spying your father had meant to do here.

“… thank you” you mumbled simply, moving further in order to let the crowd around you distract yourself, as you tried to shift your attention towards anything else.

The rest of the morning passed softly and without any true conversation, other than Hvitserk talking about various things about the culture, as you took a stroll around the stalls.

Hvitserk bought sweets he shared with you, meanwhile you were attracted by the beautiful sculptures of the gods, but didn’t dare to speak out loudly your interest, worried that they might try to offer you them again.

You didn’t want to take advantage of them.

And then Hvitserk’s eyes were caught by a beautiful girl, a cheery blonde dressed as a man, an obvious sign that she was a shieldmaiden, a female warrior.

He exchanged with the girls a few stares, enough to make you feel invisible and bothering him to the point where you suggested he just went to talk with her.

‘I won’t lose myself in the stalls’ in fact the small market had a clear end and it had started losing a bit of its original crowd, the warriors moving to eat and the merchants slowly starting to count the coins they had made.

You had also seen a bench where you could sit more comfortably and maybe hide even better.

“… are you sure?” as much as Hvitserk seemed taken by the girl he had a bit of difficulty letting you go, worry washing over his face and with the way he seemed so careless and lighthearted you could only think that it was because he had received direct orders from Ivar to keep you under his watch.

“Never make a lady wait” you taunted him and he sent you a soft smile, one you wished Ivar also owned, before he strutted off smirking devilishly at the woman, exactly as you imagined a young demon to do.

You waited onto the bench, your figure hidden further by your cloak in a sat position as you tried to think about a way to get information through Ivar, when he clearly didn’t want you between his toes.

You could try to sweeten him, but the proposal of spending time together as newlyweds had clearly made him on edge and you had no idea of how you could have your husband trust you when he barely let you in.

You felt that although you might parade yourself in your best dress Ivar would have still ignored you, which frustrated you more than you were open to admit.

You found comfort in thinking that you might have talked about it with Heahmund so that he might have told you what to do in these cases, what men might be interested in.

He seemed to be quite experienced in that ambit.

You knew that the ‘righteous warrior’ wasn’t so righteous once a woman appeared in front of him and once you and Father Peter had almost caught him with a desperate widow, him consoling her ‘properly’.

You weren’t sure how much Ivar and him might have in common, but you felt more comfortable talking with him than with Hvitserk.

He was the only link to your family now that your sisters were gone.

You were left from thinking about your dark thoughts, till a shadow loomed over you and quickly sat near to you, immediately catching your attention since you thought it to be Hvitserk.

But you were surprised to find that he was Harald’s brother, the man who had looked at you with pity in his eyes, at the wedding.

But now his eyes held a curiousness that made you shrink in yourself, as he lightly bowed his head to you, obviously trying to catch your attention.

“… princess (Y/N), I am so glad to have caught you alone, on this lovely day” his tone was definitely overly chatty, evidently a bit out of his comfort zone, something between the lines of cherry and insulting “… are you enjoying the market?”.

“Very much” you tried to keep your words curt and short “… I am sorry but I didn’t quite catch your name, yesterday”.

You knew better than to be the one who knew less about the other.

“Halfdan, Halfdan the Black” he spoke up, a proud smile, on his face as he turned to you not hiding the quick look of disdain in his eyes as they ranked over your body, almost making you feel naked “… the brother of Harald, king of Norway”.

You remembered his brother: he had tried to anger desperately Ivar, making him ashamed in front of everyone.

“Why ‘the Black’?” his nickname made your attention perk up as you raised up your head to look at him in the eyes, showing him that although you were nervous and embarrassed, you weren’t scared.

“I don’t think that it would be proper to talk about it with a lady” he muttered back, aggressiveness clear in his tone.

“I am not a lady, I am a princess” you spoke back, trying to keep your back straight as you kept looking at him in the eyes.

He seemed taken aback by your words: although your tone had kept itself mild, the words were piercing, almost as the gaze you shot him back.

“… I might start seeing why Ivar has chosen you” he mumbled under his breath “… did he choose you for your frisky character? Or for your pretty legs?”.

You were confused and a bit offended, mostly for his accusing tone.

Nobody would have talked to you like that straight up in your face, back home.

Maybe behind your shoulders, but you didn’t know how to react properly at such a facial invective choosing to just shoot him an incredulous look.

“You have no right to talk to me like that” you shot indignantly back, looking through the crowd for Hvitserk.

You had been aware that there might be some protests against you, but so direct and frontal…?

You weren’t expecting it.

“… they said that you consumed your marriage” he discarded your indignant reply, and his tone was even more teasing “…but we all know that your prince couldn’t…”.

“… my prince couldn’t what?” now embarrassment was written all over your face and your tone was raised lightly, your reply more emotional than you would have liked “… I suggest that you don’t finish that phrase”.

“I’ll teach you something, little girl: you can’t threaten an alley” but his tone seemed amused at your reply “… your husband knows of your fierce character, or is it only reserved for men who don’t call you, princess?”.

You couldn’t help but feel like that all these spiteful talk wasn’t exactly meant to be rightful or meaningful, but they were meant to distract you from the real argument.

So, you stopped taking in Halfdan’s words, and looked at him in the face, his secure behavior seemed out of place in a body that did all it could to shrink himself away from you, something you had done too many times, back in the day.

And you realized that he was also a second child, living in the shadow of his brother and everything that he did or said should have been linked to him.

You got up from the bench, effectively wanting to distance yourself from the huge man, who seemed taken aback from the sudden action, but he soon gave you a teasing smirk, expecting you to run.

But you stood your ground and spoke:

“Whatever your and your brother’s business is with my husband, I suggest you to quit these provocations, before they get too much for you to handle. You are a man not a child”.

And you were almost ready to be slapped, remembering perfectly how much a slap would sting your cheek, every time your father struck Katherine for speaking back.

You had never dared to, too scared to be able to raise your voice.

But you were in a different land, far away from your father, with a new master, but his leash at least was looser.

You were already cowering a bit away, your gaze set away from him to search for Hvitserk till a sincere laugh left Halfadan’s mouth.

“… that crippled bastard is luckier than he thinks” he replied softly, shooting you a sincere look.

“Halfdan!” Hivsterk’s voice surprised you, startling you but you were thankful to see him “… thank you for keeping company to my sister”:

The way he mumbled ‘sister’ was an obvious proof of his possessiveness and you were more than happy to hide behind him lightly, although Halfdan now had a sincere grin on his face, shadowed lightly by his hair.

“I had quite a nice time talking with her, don’t worry” he raised up quickly, moving away, through the crowd.

You let out a huff of breath as the man disappeared finally making you feel like you were allowed to relax, before you suggested, whispering it softly in Hvitserk’s ears:

“… may we go back to my tent, I am… tired”.

Although you had barely walked one meter, you felt emotionally exhausted and Hvitserk nodded, offering you gentlemanly a hand as he brought you back inside your tent.

That was enough outside world for the day.

* * *

You had spent the time in the tent improving your Norse, alongside Hvitserk, who would help you with the pronunciation and the writing, although he seemed much less versed than you had thought.

‘It was Ivar’s idea’ he had justified it, as he checked your writing of runes ‘… I am not exactly the smart brother, here’.

‘At least you are making me company’ you had grumped down in Saxon, before sending him a seraphic smile.

You had processed this way till lunch time, when Hvitserk’s stomach had started grumbling and you had smirked remembering Abigail: they would have probably stormed into a kitchen and stolen any food there.

And probably got stomachache with all the food.

‘Do you think that Ivar has eaten?’ you had asked softly, as you moved into the dining hall, the same one they had organized for your first meeting with Ivar, seeming less crowded than by night.

A few servants ran around taking care of what looked like the royalty of Vikings, and there you found Bjorn, the big bear, who sent you a roaring salute to which you bowed, again unable to wash away the sensation that everyone was looking at you.

‘I don’t think he has’ replied Hvitserk as you both sat down, and a brunette servant a few years younger than you brought you two plates with what looked like stew and smelt delightfully.

The small thrall looked at you, surprised but then moved away.

“Then maybe I should bring him lunch…” you were aware by the look that Hvitserk had sent you that it wasn’t a good idea, but you had just to go through every possible way to spend time with Ivar, and as he had denied you that morning, you hoped he wouldn’t do the same, now.

“… that is a rather nice idea…” Hvitserk spoke, his face already dripping in the stew “… but I don’t think that my brother would take kindly being interrupted”.

“I just want to try” you modelled your voice to be pleading.

You had learned through your courtiers that a pleading woman was always either an annoyance or a true attraction for men.

Either way they would surrender quickly.

And Hvitserk, probably warned to comply all your wishes and keep you safe and happy nodded his head, although his eyes shone dull, clearly not liking the job he had been given.

You let him finish his stew, not daring to stop him from his beloved food and then he accompanied you with a small tray of wood: your lunch and Ivar’s on it.

Hvitserk convinced Ivar’s guards to let you in, as you smiled prettily at the huge men, who simply looked at you almost as if you were nothing more than a flower they could crush under their shoes.

And as you sneaked past them, you again left a huff of breath.

It would have been a truly difficult thing to adapt your life to all those tall people.

Hvitserk still was stopped by the guards who pushed him with their chest back, effectively separating you from him.

He tried to fight back, more for his own virility than for you, but you shot him a comforting look.

You just hoped it would work also on you.

A guard gave you indication to find Ivar, he had recently finished an inking session and was elaborating some strategical plans.

Which meant that you could have also gotten some information.

And you did.

More than you expected.

You were frozen on your spot as you heard shouts in Norse, but instead of cowering away from the bullpen you moved closer, trying to be discreet, as you balanced the tray on one hand to raise your dress to secure you faster movements.

And then slowly you recognized the voice, Ivar’s unmistakable one and Ubbe’s, which surprised you because you weren’t honestly expecting a man like that to shout so furiously, but you kept your mouth closed.

“… you are overthrowing the natural order of things!” shouted the blonde prince.

“I am doing what father would have wanted to do! What you and Hvitserk don’t have the balls to do!”.

Ivar’s rage resembled the way he had spoken to you when the ring had been dropped.

You couldn’t help but be nervous with that side of him, but you tried to calm yourself with the thought that it wasn’t used against you.

“You are destroying our family! That’s the shit that you are doing!” replied promptly Ubbe, and you felt him move a heavy step forward “… just like you did with Sigurd!”.

The name caught your interest, but also the way Ivar replied, something being thrown against the door, definitely told you, it wasn’t something you should think about bringing up with him.

“… you always have to fucking tell me all this shit, don’t you?!” shouted back Ivar “… he was insulting my virility! Believe me I am…”.

“You aren’t” Ubbe’s tone was serious, damnably serious, having grown quieter suddenly, enough to make you hear Ivar’s deep intake of breath “… you never were, you are simply damnably prideful and ambitious and can’t see that it’ll break us apart, that it is already breaking us apart”.

A silence fulfilled the space between you two and you felt Ubbe shifting closer.

“… you are married brother, enjoy it” he continued on speaking “… I am sure that you haven’t even consumed your marriage, although the blo…”.

Another sudden hit of something against the wall made you uneasy.

Ubbe stormed away from the room and in his hurry almost crashed onto you, who were slowly turning to hide away yourself from them, and were secretly thankful when the man was more attentive to his sudden outburst, gently grabbing your trail, to let you adjust your dress.

“… didn’t see you there, sorry my princess” he commented, sending you a look to apologize “… what are you doing here?”.

“… bringing the lunch to Ivar!” you replied quickly, trying to hide any threatening intention.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea”.

“I don’t also think that it was a good idea to shout against him” you didn’t know where all this disobedience came from: you used to be the small little mouse who hid itself behind her sisters’ shadows.

But it seemed that you would need to use your teeth and nails for this.

“… you know nothing of this” he replied directly, and you knew you should have backed up, but you had dared more.

“I know that the marriage was consummated” you pushed back “… you know nothing about what happens in our bedroom and I suggest you don’t put your nose there anymore”.

Ubbe seemed shocked, exactly like Halfdan had been of your previous outburst, and then moved away muttering something darkly, as he moved away, almost bumping in the guards.

You collected yourself a minute, your own outburst leaving a light blush on your cheeks, but you hadn’t much time, and gently pushed your hair away from your face, the few strands that had come off from your lazy updo.

And then you knocked.

A gruff voice advised you that Ivar ‘wasn’t in the mood to talk with Ubbe, anymore’.

“It isn’t Ubbe, it is (Y/N)!” you thrilled happily, trying to make the atmosphere more relaxed.

And Ivar came quickly to you, opening the door with a tight expression, making you uneasy, but you kept your smile.

Your smile would have never been the summer typhon Katherine’s was, but you had to be satisfied with a small spring breeze.

“… wife” he muttered simply, but something in his had calmed down “… what are you doing here?”.

“I brought you lunch” you commented gently, holding up the tray and honest surprise shone on his face as you smirked softly at him.

He quickly took it from your legs, balancing it onto one of his crutches and almost closed the door in your face, before you added:

“I did think that we could have eaten together… maybe” or maybe not, from the startled look on your face.

And then your stomach grumbled loudly, and Ivar smirked, letting out a small laugh.

“Did they even feed you in your castle or are you simply a hungry beastie as Hvitserk?”.

Although the insult he opened the door further for you to slip inside.

“I’ll gladly pass over the fact that you just called me ‘beastie’ “ Ivar tried to complain that he meant it with affection, but you shushed him further, putting the trail onto the small table in the room, no paper or map anywhere on it, but you tried to seem at your ease “… and about the fact that you compared me to Hvitserk”.

“You are right” he replied pushing out a chair for you “… you are smarter”.

“Let me give you some matrimonial advice: don’t insult your wife” you replied, sitting down with a huge huff, making him smile cunningly at you as he sat on the other side of the table.

“… everybody seems so keen to give me marital suggestions” he mumbled, a cloud of annoyance appearing on his face “… but yours is good”.

Again, the intensity of his gaze made you divert your attention, all too happy to focus it on the food.

Ivar quickly did the same, and you couldn’t help but notice the ruthless way he proceeded to eat, in a voracious way you weren’t used to, and made you almost laugh at him, definitely feeling more at ease with your ‘messy eating’, one of the many reasons why you had been always kept away during the ceremonial dinners.

“… did you like it?” he asked, once your plate was finished.

“It was extremely delicious” you smiled at him “… I have never eaten something like that”.

Or so much.

Usually you were expected to leave at least half of the food in your plate, but this wasn’t the case.

“How did you find your staying in here?” Ivar’s words were careful and attentive, as if he was choosing the best ones “… did Hvitsersk show you around properly?”.

“He was a perfect company…” and immediately your hand shot out to his, making him raise his eyes at him, confused and startled, almost like a caged animal “… but I still wished it would have been you”.

“You don’t have to pretend” his voice was harsh enough to make you retreat your hand, almost burned “There is no need to fake feelings that you don’t have”.

“That isn’t true…” you spoke back “… I would just like for us…”.

But before you could utter more, another knock came from the door, pushing Ivar to raise up without sparing you glance.

And you tried to push down any kind of bad feeling for his rejection to look around the room, trying to see something out of its place, but as your room, it was in perfect order and Ivar soon came back, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Well well! My gift for you my lady has come!” he smiled brightly, gently pushing you onto your feet, and although his mood was strange, you followed the cheeriness of it “… would you like to see it?”.

And you had immediately nodded.

But as soon as you had seen the gift you had realized that maybe you should have been less cheerful.

Ten women were in your tents, their hands all bound together through a thick rope and their faces bearing some kind of bruises.

Only two of them were Vikings, meanwhile the others were Saxons, wealthy ones mostly by the clothes they were wearing: tattered and broken in some parts, but still expensive enough to make them daughters of local lords.

The one the Vikings had conquered.

“What is the meaning of this” you shouted turning to Ivar.

Was he playing some kind of joke on you?

He had told you he would respect you, but this all seemed as a damnable tease for you and your people.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t give you thralls, did you?” he replied, his tone truly ecstatic “… they are your people, so you’ll feel more comfortable”.

“This is not a gift for me” you spoke back, maybe more ardently than you should have, a dare in your tone “… this is an insult”.

Ivar’s smirk on his face completely lost itself and he turned to the guard holding the end of the robe bounding the prisoners, shouting something that seemed ‘get out’.

And then he turned to you.

He came a step closer to you than you would have liked, and you were well aware nobody was in the tent except you and him,

And you were well aware of what a scorned man could do to a lonely woman.

“… it is a gift and you should be thankful” he simply spat out.

“There are children in there!” you shot back, high on adrenaline.

A few of the slaves were barely older than Abigail and a few younger, two seemed only children and although you were aware that that wasn’t a problem for many people, it was for you.

“You are barely a child and were sold off so easily” the insult cut you deeper than you would have liked and you couldn’t help but take a small breath, shifting away from Ivar “… (Y/N), you know what I…”.

“Release the children” you spoke softly, your voice wavering a bit for the sadness you weren’t able to drown “… at least the children: you know they won’t be useful, and this is just cruel”.

“Maybe you don’t know it, but…” he replied quickly, shooting out to you, but you stopped him, gaining all your strength.

“…I know that you keep them as hostages, for their families, I am not that stupid, I might have been a child, but I am not an idiot” you retorted quickly and this time he was the one taken aback from your words, backing up and stumbling with his legs “… but this is not something that you can simply push off and onto me. That is my people, I won’t see them reduced to chains”.

“You all already are reduced in chains” he mumbled and although his words were vicious his tone was lighter, as if he was doubting his ideas “… they are just not that evident”.

“… I am already in chains, you don’t have to put anyone int hem for a father’s mistake” you spoke back “… just the children that’s all I ask”.

“This will show that I am weak” although his words were spiteful, their meaning meant he was considering it.

“It won’t” you spoke back, your hands reaching out for his “… gentleness is the greatest virtue we can show to humanity”.

“Maybe for your Christian god! Not for me” but his body language spoke of being tired of that small fight, as if he hadn’t expected you to confront him.

“I don’t need ten slaves, free six” you started negotiating.

You might not have been the rebel daughter, but you had been the stubborn one.

“… not going to happen” he turned to straighten his admission.

“Five” you breathed out and he turned, a bright smile in his eyes, your stubbornness making this funny for him.

“Two”.

“Four”.

“Two”.

“Three”.

“Three”.

You let out a breath of relief, at his admission but as you turned to thank him, he was already gone and you couldn’t help but feel your chest damnably heavy.

All the words crashing through you.

And you felt on the bed, already tired.

Desperately wanting to go home.

* * *

You woke with gentle but stern touches on your arm, and as you shifted your eyes to finally accommodate your sight to the light absence of the sun, since the sunset had already passed.

And when your face turned to the source of the tenderness being bestowed upon you, you recognized the eyes of the old woman, in the thralls group: her eyes were a lighter shade of blue as if they had been discolored like her hair by the passing of time.

“My lady” she spoke in a heavily accented Saxon and you nodded lightly a bit numbed by the hours spent sleeping “ … we prepared you a bath, would you like any help for it?”.

With the way you stank you couldn’t help but agree for the bath, putting yourself in an upright position, rubbing your fists on your sore eyes, as a tired pup, and as your eyes finally focused you realized that the old servant wasn’t the only one.

The ten thralls that had been Ivar’s gift were all staring at you: a few seemed too shy to actually meet your eyes, others stared at you confusedly, as if they hadn’t expected you to act like that…

… which was strange also so you.

And finally only two other people looked at you differently from the rest: the other Viking thrall, a few years younger than you but with a striking maturity in her eyes, that followed your movements shyly but attentively, as if she was used to follow any order she was given.

And the other person was a Saxon girl, beautiful in every way you wouldn’t be: light fluent black hair cornering perfectly an angelic face, complete with beautiful green eyes, set up in a feline and languid form.

She wore a bloodied golden dress, with an heavy cleavage and a long trail, tattered by dirt and mud, but she didn’t seem to even care about any of those things, sat upon one of your trunks as if it was a throne and she was hosting her own court.

She looked at you coldly: an obvious challenge in her eyes.

And you were caught in that pitiful state that made you lower your eyes immediately, and you quickly realized you had lost the first battle.

But honestly you hadn’t even the strength to feel bad for it.

You let the older thrall guide you to the bath, giving you the privacy of undressing and slipping in the bathtub, helping you in it as the younger one, filled the water with an oil that smelled deliciously.

The tender water, warm enough to comfort you, dripped you further down the uneasiness of your sleepy body, but you fought it needing to be as lucid as you could, after the small fighting with the girl outside.

Clearly the Saxons girls were looking up at her and she had no gentleness towards you, which might be dangerous.

Although you hated the thought of owning servants, you knew better than to let them command you like that, even more after what you had done and talked about with Ivar.

Now it wasn’t no secret that he thought that you were ‘weak’ in his eyes, and you needed to prove him that it wasn’t like that, in any way.

You had gained his sympathy as easily as you had lost it.

Although the entire thought of it hurt you in a way that made you uneasy to approach him again, it made your mind colder and more lucid about you true task in the camping.

So far the only thing that you had discovered was that Halfdan and Harald were desperately trying to get on both yours and your husband’s nerves, although you couldn’t help but feel like Halfdan’s taunting had had a proper purpose although it was simply messing around with you.

He wanted to test you.

He had wanted to see who you truly were.

And you knew exactly why.

You exited the bath with a new knowledge and new strength, the younger thrall immediately rushing to you with a towel to wrap you up in it comfortably and although you didn’t meet her gaze embarrassed, you thanked her softly, blushing.

She simply squeaked away, embarrassment also upon her cheeks, as the older thrall fastened the towel on your chest, as she moved another towel on your hair to dry them, before she started braiding them loosely and comfortably.

She let you dress on your own and as you were in your undergarments, she reappeared with one of your dresses, a light blue one with silver decorations on the upper part and long open sleeves.

“Turid is mute my child” she explained, as she fastened the laces on the back of your dress “… she saw her mother drowning and never came back from that”.

You couldn’t help but feel an immediate pity for her, but tried to focus onto the older woman: she might be an interesting alley, she had a motherly behavior which you couldn’t help but appreciate, but she still made sure to show you the obstacle between you and her.

The different social level.

Still you leaned in her gentleness as she dusted off your dress, before she proceeded to adjust your neckline, as she took a lighter cloak to add to the entire complex, one of those that Hvitserk had graciously dropped off for you.

As you returned a few of the children had sat down on your bed, meanwhile the black-haired beauty continued on hosting her court completely unbothered by your presence as you appeared on the threshold of the main room, showing yourself.

Thankfully her ‘courtiers’ weren’t so shameless and turned to you.

A child, most of all, seemed surprised enough to move over to you, her childish naivety disrupting any etiquette or protocol as another girl who looked like her older sister, barely twelve, tried to stop her, but you raised your hand letting the child come at you.

She touched your dress curiously, probably surprised by the intricate details on it shining brightly as they caught the light.

“… you look so pretty” she spoke slowly as you let her sat beside you on the huge bed, helping her up, as you sent a smile to everyone else in the room “… like a princess in the stories Mary tells me before going to sleep!”.

You couldn’t help but be startled by the child’s soft words.

“Mary is your sister, right?” you asked, looking at the older girl who smiled shyly at you “… you must be a wonderful sister to tell her these amazing stories!”.

“Thank you, my princess” she spoke, a soft tone as she smirked lightly, still embarrassed but she couldn’t hide the pride “… they help me ease my mind away from… everything”.

“You’ll go home tomorrow” you announced softly, pushing a few strands of blonde hair away from the small child’s face and she looked at you confused before you spoke again “… you’ll meet your mom and dad again”.

This got an ecstatic smile from the child who went straight to hug you something which surprised you and made even the black-haired beauty stop talking to send you a look to see how you reacted to the hug.

And you couldn’t help but gently hug the child back, careful of her miniscule body, as you held her close, before you turned to your fellow Saxon people gently smiling at them.

“I am sorry, but I wasn’t able to negotiate for nothing more than for three of you to be released, but it is my intention to speak with my husband again and…”.

“… and maybe by the next year we’ll all be free” completed under her breath the brunette girl, standing up straighter as her golden dress highlighted itself as it caught the light: she looked more beautiful now, without a bath and in a dirtied dress than you looked in a proper dress and after a shower “… I was a lady back home! I am not going to serve you”.

You were struck, but you didn’t lose your breath as you slowly tried to calm yourself down.

You were being undermined, which was something that could matter highly on the perception of these people.

So far, they could also be allies, hence you needed to calm yourself and collect yourself.

Both your father and Ivar wouldn’t have wasted a single second to punish such insolence, but you weren’t simply able to do such a thing.

“It is true” you spoke with a steadiness that you didn’t know you owned as you pushed yourself up onto your feet, standing a few feet taller than her, sat down on the trunks.

She was surprised by you speaking back to her but hide it well.

“… I don’t expect any of you to serve me but remember that we are all in a stranger’s house, that we have only each other for protection”.

Your word sounded twisted in your own mouth, but you held them together with a serious glare as you moved your eyes on each of the girls, trying to test out their loyalty.

“… you think that simply because you have screwed him, you have some power over him” she spoke back to you and you couldn’t help but blush to her words, but stood your ground “… he’ll kill you as easily as he did with any Saxon soldiers that has crossed his path”.

“But still I got him to release three of you” you spoke back, letting a smirk appear on your face “… he might be ruthless, but I know how to make him act civil”.

“Those are just empty words” she spoke back, but as she turned around she seemed to understand she had lost the favor of anyone, there and she sent you a direct look, before she turned around avoiding your gaze “… he will never ever be civil, he is a Viking for God’s sake”.

“He is a human like you and me” you shouted back, letting more emotion than you had thought in the phrase and a light blush covered your cheeks.

“… to be human you need a heart and be warned princess, he doesn’t have any”.

The last words were a clear slap and you were almost glad when Hvitserk appeared with a few guards from the tent, putting you out of the misery to reply to the girl, suddenly feeling guilty of not having even known the name of such a worthy opponent.

Hadn’t she been already so set on hating you, you would have found her a welcome alley.

“Princess (Y/N), dinner is ready” he said, sending a weirded look at the strange atmosphere as the older woman moved to collect your cloak adjusting it onto your back as she brushed the braid out of it.

“Just leave me a minute” you asked him as he retreated, before shooting the girls a look “I’ll be back after dinner and we’ll talk further, for every necessity you can come to me”.

And as you were trespassing the tent’s threshold you turned one last time and mumbled.

“… sometimes owning a soul is not enough to be human”.

* * *

Dinner was spent again with simply you and Hvitserk, but you were almost grateful for the chance since you were able to clear your head from the discourse and to plan a way to get the Saxons women to collaborate with you.

“… are you upset?” asked Hvitserk, seeing you toying with your food “… and are you going to finish that?”.

You just moved the enormous piece of meat in his plate, glad that you hadn’t the complex etiquette you had back in court and glad that everyone was too busy chatting to notice you.

The atmosphere was so warm that you couldn’t help but be a bit cheered on by the atmosphere.

“Hvitserk?” you asked, turning to him so suddenly you caught him with meat in his mouth “… may I ask you a suggestion about Ivar?”.

“My favorite subject” he mumbled, spiting out partially the meat in his mouth.

“… do I displease him in some way?” you asked, blushing lightly “… he seems so cold with me”.

“Don’t take it personal, princess, he is Ivar” he replied sending you a soft look “… he is cold with everyone”.

You had decided to ask such a thing to Hvitserk because although he was a Viking he had seemed pretty nice with you, whether he was doing it on his brother’s orders or because he felt pity for you.

“… I just wish…” you smiled at him sadly “… it would be easier”.

“We all do” he replied, before he chugged a good gulp of mead “… but it wouldn’t be half funny if it was”.

You nodded, although you didn’t agree with him wholeheartedly.

“… he’ll warm up to you, soon, still…” and he then moved to come closer to you, gently pushing an arm around you “… he would be a stupid man to lose such a beauty”.

You couldn’t help but blush both for Hivtserk’s compliment and touch: no man had ever come that close to you and you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback as you took in Hvitserk’s distinctive smell, mainly and tough, his rough beard lightly rubbing at your soft neck.

You immediately pushed yourself away, coughing, at the closeness Hvitserk had assumed: no woman should have been so close to a man who wasn’t her husband, back home, but the women in the camp seemed so liberal.

They were discussing with them as if they were their exact equals something that fascinated you, even more when a woman dared a man for a knife-throwing competition, remembering you about the bow you had been gifted.

You were sure you could find someone who would teach you that.

But would they be willing?

The brunette Saxon had remembered you again that you sadly weren’t exactly well-loved although Hilde’s reaction at the market would say otherwise.

“… when you are finished, tell me, I’ll bring you back to your tent” you were almost thankful for Hvitserk’s suggestion and nodded your head as you moved, raising yourself up and regaining your cloak as Hvitserk did the same, saluting the beautiful girl you had seen at market.

Who shot him a languid look, in an obvious show that Hvitserk wasn’t simply worried about your tiredness.

Still you couldn’t blame the boy: he had basically had to be your handmaiden for the entire day so you could deal with staying in your tent, almost desiring the privacy of it, hadn’t you realized that the girls would be there.

You almost missed the peace before their arrival.

You wished Hvitserk ‘good luck’ as he left you on the threshold and he looked extremely smug, bowing lightly as you came back in the tent, all the girls sat around the room, in what looked like a whispered discourse.

About you, since they all quit talking to each other as you entered.

Turid came to quickly collect your cloak as Solveig asked whether you had felt cold the previous night and needed other furs.

You said you didn’t, but made sure to tell her to take a few for herself, Turid and the others, who seemed to beam at that gracious offer, the brunette beauty now held a much smaller court, but she still regarded you with hateful eyes.

“… again, if you need anything, just come to me” you spoke in Saxon and repeated the same things to the older woman and Turid, who bowed their head, the former smirking a bit “Now I’d like to know all your names”.

They all looked around like shy bird, daring each other to speak, and then the small child who had called you ‘the princess of her stories’ moved to you and bowed lightly, with a childish deference that made you smirk.

“… I am Delilah”.

You nodded gracefully as her sister Mary stepped up beside her, and then another girl, blondish and with light eyes came forward, bowing and uttering her name, Sophie.

Then came forward the older Viking woman no bowing to you but her face held a genuine smile and her eyes devotion.

‘Solveig’ and then all the other girls stepped forward, one after the other, and you tried to test their loyalty: some seemed more convinced than others, but you didn’t get too much resistance, which was a step forward.

And you finally were in possession of the brunette beauty’s name, Angelika.

Pretty proper.

You chatted a bit more with them, informing yourself about from where they had been taken and who was waiting back home.

You would have sent back both Delilah and Mary home, alongside Christine, an eight-year-old, minimizing the children among them, to simply two, two ten years old that you had put in Solveig’s care.

‘It’s been a long time since I was a wet nurse’ she had complained, but had still taken the two children willingly, to get them ready for bed.

The thralls didn’t sleep with you, having their own tent which you could only guess could be crowded for seven women, even more if half of them had an ego as big as Angelika.

You were still happy to have company, people who were like you, who at least shared a few of your traits, such as missing home.

Your small talk was interrupted by a quick cough and as you turned to the flap of the tent, you caught a glimpse of your husband, waiting on his crutch with a wondering smirk, suddenly turning into a teasing one as all the girls showed their fear for him.

“… you better go and sleep, it is late” you chose to spare them from that show as you bowed lightly at Turid, the mute girl immediately moving towards the tent, forming a bee line with the other girls as they hurried outside, all bowing at a smirking Ivar.

He enjoyed extremely the submission he had broken in those girls’ heart and you couldn’t help but, again, realize how different you were.

Would you ever match together, truly?

You got off your bed, as you talked with the girls you had changed in your nightgown, a long flowy one that covered completely your body, almost as much as the dress you had worn that day.

You had let your hair down from the small braid and they fell on your back in small curls, covering even further anything which was revealed by Ivar’s hidden gazes.

Although he quickly moved himself to hide his face, you felt his light eyes on your body as they followed the hidden curves of your body, in a way that made you tremble.

“Welcome back, husband” you uttered softly, as you bowed and sat onto a chair beside the bed, not daring to enter it as Ivar approached it pushing himself onto the bed as a guard followed him inside.

And once he was sat down, after you had spared an embarrassed look at the guard, the guard helped him out of his braces, the metal that grasped his lower legs in an attempt to keep them straight.

You looked at the gestures, trying to understand how to unlace them so that you could do it yourself, quickly realizing that smaller hands would have worked better, since the man seemed to be pretty clumsy, making Ivar growl in pain.

He barely got one left before Ivar shouted at him to make him go away, moving to pull onto the metallic cast and you crouched down to do the same, Ivar reserving you the same treatment of the previous day when you had bended to take the ring.

But you weren’t scared this time, focused on the mechanism of the braces, fascinated by the creations etched on them, a you swiftly moved your finger through their hooks, unhooking them as you then helped him out of it, with a quickness that the previous guard hadn’t owned.

As you raised your head to meet Ivar’s eyes. they found yours and you smirked lightly, seeing them looking at you surprisedly, definitely not expecting your actions, but you just shot him a quick smirk.

“… thank you” he huffed out, pushing his legs onto the bed as you raised up, helped by a hand of his, which clutched yours tight.

“I can do it for you, each night, from now on” you told him as you overlooked him seeing if he might need something, but by the hazy look in his eyes, he seemed too tired for anything else “… I am a quick learner”.

“That you are” he mumbled, his tone held something between sweetness and annoyance.

“Who did them?” you asked gently, taking one brace in your hand as you twirled it around your hands, looking at it with curiousness, trying to understand the techniques, not having ever been so exposed to a demonstration of practical science, but fascinated nonetheless.

“Me” he replied, as he slithered away from you on the vast bed.

You shot him a surprised look, dropping the braces as you pushed them away from the side of the bed.

“That is… those are amazing creations” you complimented softly but he just nodded as if your words weren’t true “… I mean it”.

“You are too gentle” his tone was almost emotionless, and you retorted back, daring a step further.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” again you dared more than you had the ability to, but he didn’t seem to mind it too much, turning to you and again the intensity of his questioning gaze made you flinch away your eyes from him.

“I don’t know, yet” he mumbled, before turning away “… I am tired, so I’ll probably fall asleep soon, have a goodnight wife”.

And soon his lids shifted closer, giving you no chance to talk to him, able simply to move yourself into the bed, the farthest corner from him and then slipped a in very not peaceful slumber.

Your only reassurance was that another day had passed.

* * *

You were woken up by movements beside you, your head no longer projecting the illusion of being home as you moved the blankets and furs away from you and you sat in an upright position, opening your eyes to the tender light in the room, the sun being too low to be truly morning.

You turned to the other side, realizing Ivar had sat there and was trying to lower himself to the ground and as you turned to him, he realized that you were staring at him.

He seemed calmer, almost less guarded as he turned to you softly smiling.

“Sorry to have woken you up”.

You were frozen and surprised, after his continual outbursts of the previous night you almost feel like you were being tricked by his actions.

“Don’t worry, I have always been a restless sleeper” you promised softly at him “… what about you? Why are you awake so early, husband?”.

“Work” his mutter was an huff of annoyance and you couldn’t help but frown, almost wanting to push yourself further and hug him, bringing him back in bed, but didn’t dare to, both scared of what Ivar might do, since although he respected you, he didn’t fully trust you, and of the impure actions you had in mind.

And you couldn’t help but feel like any of those actions would have been greatly disapproved by your father.

It was already… embarrassing to have slept together, although at the extreme corners of the bed.

“We could have lunch together, again” you proposed as you sat in a more comfortable position, trying to get him to talk with you more, and to set up a proper appointment, hoping that the his mood might make it easier for him to talk with you.

And that it might be going on for the entire day.

“… we shall see” it was better than a no and the smirk he sent you left you flushed and worried as you lowered your head nodding “… go back to bed, wife, I’ll tell the thralls to wake you up in a few hours”.

“Don’t scare them” you told him softly and suddenly his good mood disappeared, but he nodded turning himself away from you as he slithered in the room to collect his braces before disappearing behind a secluded area to dress up.

You rolled yourself around bed trying to appear asleep when he returned back, but your body seemed at unease and restless.

You had always been the type to find it difficult to fall asleep, you would either fall asleep completely tired or you would roll around in bed, unable to completely relax as you tried to tire yourself out to get some sleep.

That’s why you had taken the habit of sneaking around by night, something which father Peter encouraged, remaining with you till late at night if you ever needed someone to talk to.

You had also always been an easy sleeper, so it wasn’t hard for you to feel Ivar’s eyes lingering onto your shielded body for a minute more before he stumbled away out of the tent, and you were alone.

As you always did in these cases you moved towards your trunk, checking the knife hidden in silks: the girls had been in your room alone and although all your trunks were locked you wouldn’t have put it past some to try to find something on you, mostly Turid and Solveig.

As much as you liked both, you couldn’t deny the fact that they were very different from you and them belonging to the Vikings ranks would have mattered greatly, hadn’t you done something to make them loyal solely to you.

After you were reassured the knife hadn’t been touched, you dug deeper and found a carpet of books you had laid out beneath all your dresses and picked up the first one you found, a small one with an elegant cover and golden inserts on it, denoting a writing in Latin.

You had taught yourself Latin with the help of father Peter and the use of the Bible till you had managed to read something else and then became more accustomed to the strange language, eventually being able to read all your favorite Latin authors, like Cicero.

Its sarcasm and strong personality definitely came as a reassurance for you, but you soon discarded the book for another, finding “Ars Amatoria” by Ovid, the book that might help you discover what went through men’s head.

You couldn’t help but blush through the erotic side of Ovid’s narration, but tried to sign up a few of the things that were told, before Solveig appeared on the threshold of the tent and you swiftly hid the book beneath your pillow, welcoming the older woman with a soft smile.

“Good morning, my princess” she wished you as slowly all the thralls appeared behind her, changed in cleaner dresses, although they weren’t as rich as the previous ones, but they all seemed much more relaxed, for which you were thankful.

“Good morning Solveig” you smiled, a you raised form the bed, Turid coming behind you immediately, almost as if she was used to helping you as she might have done with Ivar “… I hope you slept well and weren’t too cold”.

“… the… guards and prince Ivar were nicer with us” spoke softly a small girl, a bit older than she seemed, brown hair and deep amber eyes, Lia, if you weren’t wrong “… we had a nice night”.

“I am glad you did” you spoke, trying to look through all the girls who bowed their heads, bigger smiles through their grim appearances except Angelika, but you guessed that you would need more than simple furs to get her to like you “… does anybody like braiding hair?”.

Lia stepped forward:

“I have a smaller sister back home, she is barely five, I always braid her hair” she explained, making your heart swell with sadness “… she is… ruthless. She is always constantly unlacing her hair and making it a mess”.

“My sister Katherine is the exact same!” you giggled, making the girl relax as you gently pushed her to sit next to you “… she would need me to braid again her hair before any important meeting because she would go and run away through the castle”.

Although Lia still seemed at unease, she smiled genuinely.

“… Clelia is always trying to imitate our older brothers, she says that one day she’ll be a knight”.

“Well, she’ll be an amazing knight I am sure” you joked back, softly “… my sister Katherine dreamed of being like Lancelot from the legends about king Arthur, she would make me play Merlin and my sister would be Morgaine”.

Something of recognition shone in Lia’s eyes who relaxed.

“… we would play the same! My brothers even got us a round table!” she spoke, before a veil of nostalgy brought onto her face and you felt like it was better to change your opinion.

“… the reason why I asked who could braid is because… although I have a lot of practice in that matter, I do have to say that I don’t have much on myself, so if you could braid my hair, I would be extremely thankful”.

It was mostly a test, to see if these people would be loyal to you, offering yourself in such an intimate and feminine suggestion.

Lia blushed lightly, but scooted closer asking you to turn around softly and she started braiding as you invited another girl to come further, as your braided her golden hair, and soon you were all immersed in the soft atmosphere of feminine attentions, even Turid, who had big voluminous curly hair were being braided by small Christine.

It was a nice atmosphere definitely making you feel more at ease, almost as if you were again in your castle with your handmaidens, definitely not in a tent in an enemy camp, but you still kept your eyes sharp and attentive on everyone.

Angelika didn’t join the ‘braiding group’, but she still held her court with a few of the youngest thralls for which you were low key grateful, allowing them to try various braiding techniques on her long hair.

Both Solveig and Turid were determinate in their movements, almost mechanical, whereas the Saxons soon replenished the tent with low chatting and you quickly tried to catch onto it.

Something that caught your attention was said by Eleanor, a beauty in her own right, long dirty blonde hair and green eyes, a voluptuous body that her modest clothing didn’t hide, but her eyes held a purity and a shyness that you recognized all too well.

She had been talking with Arabella, a sixteen-year-old with a slim body and a tightness to her limbs that came from nervousness, almost as if she was constantly anxious.

‘… the guards and all these men… they have been looking at me weirdly’ muttered trembling lightly the blonde-haired beauty ‘… prince Hvitserk even went as far as to…’.

But her small confession stopped as the mentioned subject appeared in front of you, an obvious show that your presence was requested, and that he was in charge of you again.

The small chatting had immediately ceased and Solveig moved away with your nightgown, busy adjusting it back in the trunks, as she had dressed you up in a green gown, a bit tight on your stomach, and the skirt fell heavily on your hips, but you smiled through the pain.

Jewels had also been added, a small circlet of golden to crown your beautiful braided hairstyle, for which you had thanked multiple times Lia, the small girl smiling brightly at you, as you reached out for one of her hands.

You took a look of your body in the small mirror at the entrance of the tent and couldn’t help but feel more like your royal self than anything else, keeping your head high, as you bid the girls ‘good morning’.

The three that would be coming back coming with you followed you: the small Delilah cradled in her sister’s arms, meanwhile Christine clutched onto your gown as a child, comforted as you passed a hand through her braid

You led them to the chariot with a few guards on it, that would be taking them home and you slowly encouraged them to move further, but both the children gripped your arms tighter, scared by the men’s behavior.

“… you are going back to your families, sweeties” you softly spoke as you crouched down beside the small children “… your mom and your dad will be so happy to see you”.

“We won’t forget it, princess (Y/N)” spoke softly Mary at your shoulders, a few tears coming down her face as she fidgeted with her hands “… our father might be a small lord, but he’ll know that you freed his daughters and when you’ll need help my princess, just come to us and ask a favor”.

“Do me a favor, Mary” your voice wavered a bit, moved by the child’s offer “… protect your sister and Christine”.

“I will, my princess” she mumbled softly, as the two children loosened their grip on you, but kissed both your cheeks, hugging you tight “… you are a true saint, my princess”.

“Have a safe travel, Mary”.

The girls moved onto the chariot helped by the guards to whom you sent a small thankful smile, before turning to a surprised Hvitserk.

You made sure the chariot exited the camp before you turned to him.

“… Hvitserk I am going to ask something of you” you mumbled, shyly and nervous.

“Just ask and you shall receive” he joked back, but as he turned to face you, finding that your glare was pure steel.

“Don’t ever touch or talk with my handmaidens, again, or I’ll get your eyes out of their sockets”.

And you turned, your gown swishing soundly against the ground as you did so.

Missing Hvitserk’s shocked expression.

* * *

This time your daily stroll was taken at boat building sites, since you had insisted about a less crowded place and more open, wanting to see the reason why Vikings were so famous and undefeated: their boats.

You had been fascinated by the entire process and you had been looking through everywhere almost as a child with a new toy, Hvitserk barely following you and soon he had lost you, as you threaded through the setting where they covered boats with pitch and where they set up wood.

You had always been a bit excluded by such a practical knowledge and were now taking anything in with interest, as you run around, everybody surprised by your presence but nobody gave you any trouble, even answering your questions as you asked them.

Fear and respect in their eyes.

As you were stopping onto a cliff in front of the vast sea, you felt a presence reaching your side, and turned thinking it must have been Hvitserk, but to your surprise and dreading it was Halfdan.

He hadn’t the cocky expression of the other day, he instead seemed nervous almost uneasy, showing his true colors, for which you were thankful since he wasn’t the only one.

“Princess (Y/N)” he called out to you, bowing slowly his head, more out of circumstance than anything else “… may we talk?”.

“If you are going to insult me, I’d prefer not to” you shot back, the dress having given you a confidence you hadn’t known, a façade different from the one you owned.

“I actually came to excuse my poor behavior, my brother always tells me that my behavior with women… is not… something I should be proud of”.

You were definitely able to feel like Halfdan was sincere in his talk and lowered your steely glance, setting onto the small rock propped up by the cliff, as Halfdan did the same.

“… your apologies are accepted, my lord” you spoke “… but I’d like you and your brother not to use me as a way to get back to my husband”.

He seemed shocked with the way you spoke, having caught the bullseye, something you had thought about in the morning as you read, thinking about the way both the brothers had tried to get a raise out of Ivar.

But what they did with you was testing the waters to see if you’d betray your husband.

“… you see, Halfdan The Black, I might seem naïve and young, but I am not stupid or blind” you talk about it slowly, pushing every word out almost as spitted against him.

“Why then, if you aren’t stupid or blind, do you stay with Ivar?” he spoke, genuinely curious “… he isn’t properly husband material, the way he got so angry at your wedding… it isn’t…”.

This explained the pity glance.

“My God wants a wife to be faithful by her husband’s side, whether in sickness or health, till Death do us apart, I might have rejected my God, but I stand by my beliefs” you spoke slowly “… and I don’t think that you and your brother might offer me something more than my husband”.

And you were already someone else’s spy.

Halfdan didn’t look too shocked by your confession, before he adjusted on the rock, looking around at the sea, the way the grey waves crashed to the shore in a continuous cycle that hypnotized you, your gaze stuck there.

“… you are seriously smarter than I thought” he spoke, making you blush lightly, reverting on your timid personality “… ND you are more interesting than I thought, princess”.

“Then you might want to let me know why you are named Halfdan The Black” you retorted, shifting the argument of your conversation, definitely uneasy with the attention set on you.

“… that princess is a long story” he retorted, a small smile on his face, a bit more at ease with you.

But your conversation was quickly set off by a sudden scream and as you both turned you found a girl the origin of the desperate scream as a man moved to grab onto her hair, pushing her down and pulling onto her hair to bring her back in his tent, as the girl dug her hands onto the ground, to avoid moving further.

You immediately moved forward as Halfdan was immediately behind you and before you even knew it you had pushed onto the man, making him release his hold onto the woman who immediately crawled away, setting herself behind you.

She was different from any woman you had ever seen, her skin darker than yours, a beautiful shade of ebony that completely matched the blackness of her ink-like eyes, as they stared with fierceness the man.

He was older than you, but in a way that was more due to his weight and evil expression on his face than to his actual age, as he moved forward to you with an animalistic growl, getting right on your face.

“… want a fucking lesson too, little whore?” he spoke in Saxon, his tone dripping with venom and alcohol “… I am more than willing to show you…”.

And as his hand was coming down your face, a sheathed sword pulled it back, making the man fall onto his ass as Halfdan came into your view, something savage in his look as he came in front of you.

But the man didn’t desist.

“… don’t you teach your whores to stay out of the fucking way” the entire phrase was too slurred for you to completely understand it, but you understood the dreadful meaning of it.

Again, Halfdan came to rescue, pushing himself in front of you as he pointed the sword at the man, stopping him from getting up.

“Do you know who you just called ‘whore’?” the man shook his head softly “… she is Ivar’s bride, shithead”.

And like that the man’s face grew restless and white, almost as if he had suddenly realized the terrible mistake he had done, backing up slowly from Halfdan and you, who instead overstepped Halfdan and moved to the man.

The fear of God shone in his eyes and you slowly crouched down to him.

“… you better ask forgiveness” you whispered, and the man immediately raised his hands almost to protect himself blabbering forgiveness, but you stopped him immediately “… not to me, but to the lady”.

The beautiful woman who now was looking at the scene from behind Halfdan’s strong legs perked up, her voluminous hair dirty of mud and her dress simply rags patched up together which made you understand why she had tried to run away.

Although the man grimaced at your small order, he did mumble a slow ‘sorry’, and you exchanged a small look with Halfdan who pushed feet onto the man’s protruding stomach, effectively stealing his breath.

“… do it better” and when he stood there without doing anything your anger got the best of you “… beg for forgiveness and don’t make me ask again”.

And the man did, almost starting to cry, something that brought you back from your small moment, as Halfdan released the man kicking him away as you moved towards the woman, who had looked at all the scene, tears slowly slithering onto her dark cheeks.

You approached her carefully, crouching down, uncaring of the mud that got in your dress as you did so, gently helping her up her fragile feet and softly asked her if she was alright.

She seemed shocked by the fact you had spoken with her but quickly nodded, her weigh being suddenly pushed onto you as she slumped in your arms, her feet having given out under her.

Halfdan quickly took her from you, carrying her in his arms easily, as you were suddenly met by Hvitserk, who seemed confused by the entire scene but didn’t dare to question it as you told him to go back to your tent and to advert Solveig of preparing a bath.

Halfdan carried the girl as you tried to check on the her, worried almost as if she was one of your own.

But what caught you and made you raise your eyes from the girl was Halfdan sudden stare fixed on you, a slightly dark smirk on his face.

“I always thought that Ivar would be your undoing…” he mumbled softly “… maybe you’ll be his, only time will tell”.

* * *

Solveig had almost threatened to push you out of your own tent as you fretted around her worried for the poor woman: she had blood on the hem of her dress, between her legs, which had made the poor Turid almost faint.

All the Saxons ladies had been pushed out and as much as you hated separating Solveig and Turid from the rest of them, using them for manual actions, you thought it would have only scared the girls, even further the younger ones, who were playing with Lia and Arabella, outside, under the watchful eyes of Halfdan and Hvitserk.

‘Do you think that she’ll… she’ll feel better soon?’ you asked continuously at the older woman as you had slowly dropped the girl in your bathtub, after you had discarded her clothes.

You had tried not to look at her body, the Christian modesty you owned closing your eyes, but you hadn’t been able to avoid witnessing the scars that decorated the woman’s body, all recent and you could only guess what that horrid man had done to her.

You couldn’t help but have memories of what had happened a lot of years ago to another woman, who had her body branded by scars, under her rich clothes.

That’s why you had moved in and that’s why you felt so so damnably tense at the thought of that woman never opening her eyes again.

She did it, finally, waking up as one would from a cruel nightmare, moving her body without a true order as she splashed the water, enough that both you and Solveig rushed to bind her arms, making her only pronounce other words you didn’t know, unknown also to Turid, who had rushed in with a towel for the woman.

“You are alright” you spoke softly in her ear, slowly releasing your grip onto her arm as you told Solveig to do the same “… that man won’t hurt you anymore”.

She seemed taken aback, needing a moment to process your words and then she dipped in the water, her hand raising high and her words seemed prayers, thankful for being free, as her voice broke pitifully and she was overcome by a cry.

You dismissed Solveig and Turid, knowing all too well that whenever such bare emotions were uttered one didn’t need a crowd and she softly turned to you, her face being again stained by tears as you softly hushed her, holding her close.

“… thank you, my lady, thank you” she cried and you softly smirked.

“Don’t worry, no woman should ever be treated like that” you spoke, gently handing out a hand for her as you grabbed the towel Turid had brought, turning around to give her some privacy.

“You are… you are the… younger prince’s bride, aren’t you?” she asked as her voice wavered a bit, evidently wanting to shift the conversation away from herself, and you didn’t blame her since you were a stranger to her.

“… yes, I am, I am princess (Y/N)” you told her, bowing lightly “… and you are?”.

“My name is not... understandable in this tongue… but since I came here my father… he called me Caryn” she told you, slowly lowering her voice, something delicate and intimate in her talk, but you didn’t push her further.

“… that’s a beautiful name” you mumbled as you helped her out of the bathtub “… can I leave you with Solveig and Turid, now? I’ll check on the other girls”.

“Of course, my princess, I am sorry if I said you were a lady…” she started rambling and you just smiled at her, grabbing softly her coarse hands.

“… no need Caryn, I am just happy if I can make you feel a bit better”.

And you exited to control on the girls and more importantly the men, but Hvitserk was careful to look at anywhere else that wasn’t the girl, whereas Halfdan’s eyes were set onto you.

“How is the girl?” he asked, softness shining in his eyes.

“Bruised but holding on” you told him and released a soft breath, before he asked you and Hvitserk to join him for lunch.

“I don’t know if I…” you shot a small look worried for Caryn “… can you bring me lunch here?”.

“First she threatens me and then orders me around…” mumbled Hvitserk annoyedly “… she is becoming too spoiled”.

“I do think that she’ll be funnier than we think” retorted Halfdan.

And you smirked at him, before turning, the light circlet on your head catching light, almost as a lightning as you drove back in the tent.

You had saved a life today.

And maybe God would have seen it and decided to help you.

Or maybe you had helped yourself out of this shit.


	4. The Smart Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are slowly trying your best to set your own place in the new world you are stuck in, but suddenly many many enemies appear, ready to attack you at your lowest...

##  _The Smart Saviour_

_Now I know_

_How to kill a king_

_Now he suffers in silence_

_With a poisonous sting_

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=MDljMTJmZjc5MzExMTE3NGM5MTY4Y2I2MGM2NmZmNmU3NmQyMjgyYSxpTzNUTTdVeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190738105989%2Fto-kill-a-king&m=1) _

Almost a week had passed from your marriage and not much had happened.

You hadn’t been able to create some kind of link with your husband and neither to talk with Heahmund, since the bishop had soon sent word that he had been held back at the castle.

And as much as you liked the newfound comradeship between your Saxon handmaidens, Angelika’s words poisoned constantly their thoughts, enough to make you nervous and uneasy, even around them.

Thankfully Caryn, the woman you had saved alongside Halfdan had been a constant presence in your life and you were almost thankful for her gentle attention.

You had offered her freedom, but she had stuck with you, eventually covering the role of handmaiden in your small court, seeing as she felt like she owed it to you, and…

‘I don’t see many other options other than being somebody’s slave in this new world’ she had smiled sadly, once you had set down to explain your choice ‘… and you seem quite the gentle master’.

She had then told you all about how she had come in England, since you couldn’t help but notice her skin.

You hadn’t said anything to her, but she could evidently see the way you looked at her, curious.

‘My mother was a small princess in her country, she had been sent with her father to find a suitor in Iberia, I don’t know if you have…’ then you had suddenly brightened, recognizing the word, and she had smirked back at you ‘… my father was a poor merchant from England, not rich enough to be my mother’s suitor, but they ran away together and lived happily, I even had an husband, till the Vikings arrived and…’.

You could see all the pain in her eyes, but she pushed herself to continue her narration, speaking about how Vaghnar had found her and had claimed her as his, treating her as a toy for his own…

‘… sexual pleasure’ she had seemed so disgusted with herself and it almost made you want to search for him and let Halfdan do with him what his eyes had threatened to do.

But Caryn had a fierce personality to her that made her desperately in need to do something to keep her busy, although you insisted that she didn’t push herself, since she was still recovering, but she moved around the camping so gingerly.

And eventually a plan formulated in your mind.

‘Caryn might I ask something of you?’ you asked one morning as she was taking care of your hair.

You knew it wasn’t fair on the girl, because you might be pushing her down onto memories that she might want to keep for herself.

And yet you needed to know.

‘… you said you had a husband, back then, didn’t you?’.

‘I did, my princess’ she smirked softly, although nostalgy veiled her face and for a moment you wondered whether you should have processed with this or not ‘… he was a good man, but he was murdered during one of the raids to protect us’.

A sad expression appeared in the mirror in which you were both staring at, making you mumble a light ‘I am sorry’.

“… I know this is… I have something to ask you… but don’t feel obliged to answer me, I just…’ you tried to release the uneasiness trying to bare a part of your own soul ‘… I am a newly-wed bride, without anybody telling me what is right or what isn’t… it is just… difficult… even more when my husband constantly shuts me off”.

Caryn’s eyes had softened and although you were of the same age, she had a more mature almost motherly shade in her eyes that made you blush as she proceeded to answer.

“… me and my husband weren’t pushed together by an arranged marriage” she explained softly “But… no offense to you and prince Ivar, but… what all men have in common is that they tend to be a bit dull on some things…”.

You found it difficult to think of Ivar as dull, since that man as twice as cunning as the devil, but you also couldn’t help but think how he looked damnably clumsy around you, as if you were able to make an intelligent man a complete idiot.

You had heard of something similar happening to many of Kathleen’s suitors.

It would take them just a look to your fierce sister for them to stutter and be embarrassed, as she chastised them with a quick look.

And you could understand them: Kathleen was terrifyingly beautiful, with a beauty that steamed from her strength and gave her the resistance of a princess, if not a queen.

You were just a mild copy of hers, reserved and too shy to show your face around, but still…

Ivar blushed so so much around you, although he tried to hide it.

“… hence they might need a bit of indications for them to understand what their women want” explained Caryn, gently adjusting the dress you were wearing that day, an elegant creation of dark yellow fabric, tending to gold in a way that was flattering to your skin tone.

It had a high collared fashion, showing off your neck, and highlighting it, meanwhile the gown fell straight on your legs, in a way that was less painful to your hips.

Slowly you had stopped wearing corsets.

Your new clothes were much more modest and didn’t entail wearing a corset, for which you were almost thankful, being able to properly breath.

“I did try to tell him, but he just…” you huffed out annoyed, gently turning your head in embarrassment “… ignores me”.

“Then remember him that you are his wife” Caryn’s voice was steady, although soft “… there is a gentleness to you, my princess that is damnably important, but you need to roar a bit to be heard”.

You blushed: the sole thought of confronting Ivar in that way making you damnably nervous.

You felt comfortable doing it with both Angelika and Halfdan, and generally people who got on your nerves, but with Ivar the protest just wouldn’t come out of your lips.

You would be brought awake by his movements around in bed and you would fake being asleep.

Whenever he refused to lunch together, you would just nod your head and look down, a behavior that was starting to annoy you.

But you just couldn’t help but feel at unease to confront Ivar.

You had just always been too afraid to comfort authority and it really showed upon you.

“It’s just… ugh it is difficult…” you had huffed out, feeling quick childish for the way you had uttered the entire thing “… I just wish it would all be easier”.

“Sadly, it isn’t” Caryn now was looking at you in the eyes, a sad smirk on her face “… but if we want to make something change… we have to start it”.

You took a deep breath, uneasiness making your lungs swell to the point that you couldn’t help but feel like you were being suffocated, eventually lightly dipping a finger in the high collar of the dress to avoid making yourself choke on it.

“… I’ll try” you breathed out, as you let your collar go, the fabric immediately coming back to its choking grip on your neck.

“I’ll wish you the best of luck, my princess” mumbled softly Caryn, gripping your hand and effectively making you relax a bit, although you were startled back to consciousness as Eleanor bumped in your tent, breathing heavily as if she had run all the way there.

“… bish… bishop Heah… bishop Heahmund…” she looked like she might as well faint and both you and Caryn came to grab softly on her to support her “… he has come back and wants to see you, my princess”.

Which was good news, but you were well aware that simply moving in his tent might have raised eyes and gently told Caryn to take care of poor Eleanor.

You then decided to write a quick note about the little you had gathered during your first week, inviting the bishop to join you for dinner, entrusting Caryn to bring it to the bishop.

One of your handmaidens would have given your involvement out, whereas Caryn was a rather recent feat in your life, and Ivar having avoided you like you were infected, hadn’t yet taken in the beautiful woman.

Again, you felt bad for taking advantage of Caryn, but if you wanted to survive and avoid burning yourself out, you had to ‘use’ the people around you.

According to your father it was either to be used or to use.

And for all your life you had been used as a pawn in your father’s chess match.

And you had dreaded your life, like that.

You moved out of your tent with a renewed confidence, although you couldn’t hide the weight on your shoulders, as you lightly kept your head bowed, accompanied by Eleanor, who joined again the other handmaidens in the small tent they were staying at, after bowing and bidding you ‘goodbye’.

You had stopped being accompanied everywhere by Hvitserk, having gotten confident in your own knowing of the camping and thank to Caryn and Halfdan you were never truly alone, even more when you’d feel Ivar’s men never leaving completely your side.

But this time, instead of following you around, they were stopping you from entering your husband’s private tent, the one where every new move was plotted and where he would spend the entire day.

“… I just need to talk to my husband” you muttered with gritted teeth, trying to move further past them “… I’ll make it quick”.

“We are under orders of letting nobody inside” spoke an arrogant hunk that smiled at you, before he took a quick look of your body, which made you have literal chills “… my princess, I’ll escort you back to your tent”.

“I have no intention to go there, without assuring myself that my husband is still breathing” you replied quickly “… please, you must understand I am… a concerned wife”.

“Nobody is meant to enter this tent” spoke the other warrior, this one with a glare to you that also gave you chills, and you were almost turning around when you caught a quick glance of Ubbe, the blond man observing with watchful eyes your embarrassing rejection.

And his eyes shone of satisfaction.

He had warned you and you hadn’t listened to him, and now were paying the embarrassing outcome of it.

And that was enough to make you try harder, literally doing the only thing that a lady in need could do: faint.

You faked losing your energy, pushing yourself to stumble onto the man, the one who had looked at you dirtily, as you slumped pitifully onto him.

They immediately rushed to grip onto you, to avoid you falling down onto them and you saw an opening, quickly darting for it as you both heard the guards shouting at you, but you just didn’t stop moving, having quickly memorized Ivar’s room location.

And as you came to the door, you opened it without even knocking, closing the door with a smile right the guards’ faces.

“… wife?” asked confusedly Ivar, who was set down behind his desk, raising his face from his papers and taking a quick look to your disheveled appearance: your cheeks growing red for the small run and a few strands of hair exiting the two small braids pinned on top of your head in the resemblance of a crow, since you weren’t wearing one that day “… what are you doing here?”.

“Remembering you that you have a wife” you mumbled, keeping your tone steady but loveable as you moved to approach him, before you were stopped by a small glare on his part.

“… as much as I appreciate it” he gestured quickly at his papers “… I am busy”.

“It won’t take much” you promised softly, as you crouched lightly down “… I just hoped to have a small talk with you, we haven’t… we don’t even know each other”.

“I have heard that in the most successful marriages, the groom and the bride have little knowledge of the other” he muttered, lowering his eyes and not even deigning you of looking at you in in your eyes.

And it was enough.

You moved quickly to his desk, and pushed your hands down on it, gaining the attention of his beautiful icy eyes, with an annoyance that froze you on the post, making you almost forget all the discourse you had gotten ready…

“… can’t you just see how hard this is for me?” you simply mumbled, betting everything on your tone, genuine enough to express your frustration “… I just want nothing more than to know you, Ivar”.

And that was his breaking point.

“And don’t you think that this is also hard for me?” he asked as he raised up onto his arms, raising his voice as well “… having a child as a bride, who can’t help but get her nose in my fucking important business!”.

Hadn’t the raised tone scared you already, the profanity certainly did its course and you pushed yourself back from the desk, but it wasn’t enough, because Ivar kept this aggressive approach, raising his face to look at you in eyes, a lighter shade of annoyance and full-blown for anger.

You hadn’t met many men who had been angry at you, but certainly this aspect of Ivar reminded you of your father.

“I just…” you tried to sob, holding back the tears, not only because you were well aware that they would have only brought him to shout at you harder, but they would have made you feel weak, which was something that might be considered dangerous in your condition “… I am trying… this isn’t easy… I am…”.

“So you decide that you can bother me, a leader and commander trying to organize my return home…” his anger had become vicious, desperately trying to make you feel little, in a way that hurt you more than his own pure anger “… you are nothing but a spoiled princess, disrupting my work”.

You had been insulted all your life by your father, who undermined your knowledge and strength and it had all resulted into you growing tame, shy and insecure.

But Ivar unlocked something in you.

Something damnably fearful, as you raised your head and challenged him back with your own anger.

“I might be a spoiled princess…” you started as you came closer, and this time it was Ivar who backed up “… but I am a princess who has been taken away without a reason from everything she has always known, thrusted in a reality she doesn’t know and that is completely different from hers, by the side of somebody who rejects and constantly humiliates her…”.

Your tone hadn’t raised unlike Ivar, and you didn’t have to use strong words to let the message sink in, as your nostalgy and sadness washed over you, pushing itself on Ivar who seemed to finally feel the bite of your words.

“… you asked for us to be alleys, to be respectful…” and you turned around, sending him a good last glance “… I was stupid to agree. I don’t know how I could expect respect from a monster”.

And like that you left his study, as you heard him slump down on the chair as if an arrow had been shot through him.

And you liked knowing that it had been you behind that arrow.

You had been treated and ordered around all your life, without no chance to react.

Your breaking point had finally arrived.

And you had broken somebody else, instead of breaking yourself, for once.

* * *

Still a few hours later the knowledge of the true extent of what you had done settled in you as you slumped down on the bed, complaining and huffing around at your actions with Ivar.

You couldn’t help but be worried of his reaction, although the thought of having bothered him if not wounded him brought a slight smile on your face.

Even through you knew you should have hated that awful feeling.

A good Catholic princess wouldn’t have never wished to harm anybody, although she had been hurt constantly, belittled and shamed for every desire which didn’t match the general interest.

But you had for the first time regained a bit of control, having had the last laugh… or shout.

You had stood your ground.

And your mother would have been proud of it.

“… my lady” Arabella called out to you, her tone wary and as you turned you sported a soft pout on your face “… prince Hvitserk is asking for your presence outside the tent”.

You had no intention of moving, preferring to brew in your guilt and worry, but thought that you had already moped too much, and you felt even more ashamed of having an audience, the quiet Turid, adjusting a few of your washed clothes and Solveig who was looking onto the two children in her care, Lilianne and Carlise.

“I am coming, ‘Bella, thank you for letting me know” you thanked her, as you got up, quickly moving onto the exit and taking in the small world your handmaidens had created, playing around happily as you eyed a few girls gossiping, hopefully not about you.

Even Angelika seeming relaxed.

Hvitserk stuck out as a sore sight between them.

Hadn’t the smallest girls given him a flower crown.

“You look quite handsome, my prince” you joked softly.

“… I am sure that all the ladies will come to me, now” he mumbled jokingly, as he shot a little smirk to the old Solveig, who still blushed before cursing against ‘… this damned youth’ “… but one lady might be very interested in you, right now, Nanna has accepted to see you”.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft shrill at that.

Another thing to help you pass boredom, had been trying to set up a meeting with Nanna, the beautiful woman you had seen in the hall the first day beating a man in the game of darts.

She was captain of a small group of shieldmaidens and you had convinced Hvitserk to mediate between you two to get her to teach you how to use the bow and arrow.

‘I could teach you’ had mumbled Hvitserk a few day previous, as you both skipped stones by the sea, and you had just shot him a quick look, before muttering:

‘…. I want to learn from the best’.

‘I’ll pretend not to be offended by it’ he had replied with a teasing tone that had blossomed slowly between you two, as if he was the brother you had never had, in a protective way that never failed to make you feel more at ease with him.

Who you couldn’t quite place for now was Halfdan, who would sometimes join in your walks with Hvitserk, but mostly kept to himself, as he came in to check onto Caryn, who had thanked him copiously for his help.

As Halfdan had blushed softly, remaining silent as Caryn had just waved a soft hand and a smile at him and you couldn’t help but desperately want that power for yourself, with your own husband.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you mumbled, suddenly wanting a distraction, as Hvitserk looked at your rich yellow dress, an extremely frilly thing with an uncomfortable trail that had already gotten all dirty, definitely not something comfortable.

“… you might consider changing into something more comfortable” he explained to you “… maybe with pants”.

You looked at him surprised: you had never ever worn pants in your life.

Kathleen sometimes did, mostly to be more comfortable when she was training with swords or weaponry, but both you and Abigail had never worn a pair of pants in your life.

“… ahem…” you felt stupid admitting that you had none and again Hvitserk offered to steal some clothes for you “… not yours, please they all smell of mead and…”.

‘… sex’ you wanted to add, with that profound and distinct smell that you had come to know, as he would come to grab you for a walk, after he slipped away from a tent that wasn’t his.

Unlike him Ivar kept his own smell anonymous, as you had never smelt anything that didn’t belong to you in your time with him, the softness of Bjorn’s perfume being dashed in little doses on your neck after your bath.

But so far… your husband hadn’t looked at you different, as the older of brothers had promised you.

… maybe you were using it wrong.

“I’ll grab something from the shieldmaidens, don’t worry” he promised, with a smartass smirk, as he handed you softly the flower crown ‘since it’d suit you much better’, making Lia softly smirk as she and Turid were busy drying some of your clothes “… just be ready for Nanna, she isn’t a very… gentle woman”.

* * *

And she certainly wasn’t.

As you arrived to a small clearing in the woods beside the camping, wearing pants, which were strangely comfortable although too large for you, Nanna and her warriors were already there, talking comfortably between each other, but immediately shutting up as you and Hvitserk dismounted your horses.

You had been given Ivar’s horse, since you hadn’t one, and the stable boy had seemed too damnably nervous to search another horse and eventually the white stallion had immediately seemed at ease with you.

‘It’s strange’ had mumbled Hvitserk, as you caressed the mane of the horse ‘… he is usually restless’.

‘As his owner’ you had muttered under your breath, quickly helped up on the horse by your brother-in-law ‘… he is like Bukefalos’.

‘Buk… what?’ had asked confused Hvitserk and you had explained that he was the restless stallion who had belonged to Alexander the Great, scared of his own shadow, and although Hvitserk hadn’t seemed appreciating the story, you had still called the stallion ‘Bukefalos’.

But if Bukefalos was aggressive, Nanna was a pure goddess of war, raising her gaze to you as she turned to greet you, an annoyance in her glare that made you feel beneath her and when you bowed, she sent you a sarcastic look, and you were struck in a middle bow, confused on what to do.

“… welcome princess (Y/N)” she greeted you, immediately gaining the upper hand ‘… and to you also prince Hvitserk’.

“It’s an honor for me to be allowed to train with you” you spoke softly, trying to keep yourself upright as Hvitserk simply bowed his head, backing his steps as if he was trying to run away.

And you sent him a direct order, not to leave you.

But the bastard did, and you thought it was simply payback for having threatened him.

Oh, you’d have fun telling the girls to put poison ivy under his pillow tonight.

“… who has told you that you’ll be allowed to train with us, little princess?” retorted immediately Nanna, with an haughty tone that was a mix of Angelika’s venomous jabs and Ivar’s annoyed words, in a steely glance that froze you on the spot “You are here to prove your strength to us… and then we’ll talk about whether you are worthy or not”.

You couldn’t help but be dumbfounded, definitely not used to people not being around for your orders.

You had been bred to be a princess.

Hence you were used to give orders.

But Nanna didn’t take any.

As she swiftly turned to her women, they all set down in a position with their stomach on the ground and their hands pushed in it, as they raised on them, pushing their weights there.

You looked at them confused and swiftly Nanna turned to you, locking your eyes together as she stared at you down.

“… what are you waiting for?” she ordered you and before you knew it your own body reacted to her orders, forcing itself on the ground, matching the other people’ position as you repeated the exercises they did.

Your body wasn’t used to such a strain, not used to being properly trained, unless for some trivial exercises and walking, but you tried your best to push through it as you fought not to faint, feeling yourself growing weak.

You weren’t as fast or as strong as the others, barely completing half the exercises but you desperately tried your best.

But Nanna’s face kept on being put in an annoyed pout.

And worry didn’t help your fatigued system.

Half through the latest exercises, Nanna stopped you and pulled you aside.

Your legs hurt with each step and you were pretty sure that you wouldn’t have been able to raise your arms, past your waist, as you tried your best to calm yourself quietly.

“… I do think that I’ll see you again tomorrow, same hour and same place” she explained her tone softening but her eyes ranked steely on your sweaty body.

You had sweat in places it shouldn’t have been.

“Ahem… thank you…?”.

“You aren’t much of a soldier, but there is potential” she spoke, and although you tried not to let her words matter to you…

They did.

And it brought a smile to your face.

“… but don’t think that it’ll be easy” threatened her Nanna.

“I just didn’t think that I needed all of this to use a bow and arrow…”.

But she was immediately shut down by a harsh glare of the woman.

“Believe me, little girl…” her tone was harshly low “… if you aren’t able to push yourself on your arms, you won’t be able to use a bow like the one you were gifted, princess”.

And with that she was off to her girls.

And your legs gave out under you.

* * *

Thankfully Bukefalos was much more loyal than Hvitserk and he had brought you back more than happily on his back, after you had almost fallen on your ass to mount him.

He had been good enough to lower himself to let you on easily.

And you had promised him a few sugary treats, immediately his eyes brightening up as he darted out to lick your cheek, hence you weren’t solely covered in sweat, but also horse saliva.

And you didn’t blame Eleanor as she almost started laughing in your face as you slumped down Bukefalos, giving him to Arabella, who had dealt with horses her entire life, more than happy to give ‘your beloved hero’ a few apples.

‘And sugar cubes!’ you called out, before dipping inside the tent.

You hoped that after a bath, you’d stop feeling like all your limbs didn’t answer to you anymore, as a feeling of tiredness ate you up from the inside.

But when you took a small step inside the tent, you were surprised to find a delicious smell coming from it, and it immediately brightened your mood.

Which was shadowed as you took in Ivar sat down on his bed.

He seemed almost… guilty as he kept his eyes on his feet, moving between his hand, Floki’s gift as he tried to find some way to grasp what it truly was, and to shift his attention away from you.

Till you made some noise as you stumbled on your tired and shaky legs and he raised his head, almost scared taking in your disheveled appearance.

And he bowed his head just to raise it again immediately, withholding your surprised gaze with one that was damnably harsh but tried to soften, badly its edges.

“… you are here…” he mumbled “… finally”.

His words weren’t meant to hurt, as if he had seriously looked out for you, desperately.

“I was…” you didn’t owe him any explanation, he did “… what are you doing here?”.

“I thought that you were the one who told me that we were supposed to spend more time together and I thought about having lunch…” his tone wasn’t again enough poisonous, although his words were cutting, but he was seriously trying to smoother his tone “… but you weren’t coming back and I…”.

Was that worry in his words?

“I met Nanna in hope that she would be teaching me archery” you explained, although you kept his distance and his gaze, whereas he hid his.

“That’d explain the smell” he replied under his breath, and although there was a damnable palpable tension, she couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“… do you suggest that I don’t smell like roses, husband?” you teased him.

“You never smell like roses” he mumbled softly, almost as if it was a thought that shouldn’t have uttered “… I’d say that you have something sweeter honey and vanilla, but much denser, almost… exotic”.

You were extremely taken aback by Ivar’s perception of you, even more if you thought about the fact that you had considered him completely uninterested in you.

“… sometimes it is too intense… I feel it on the sheets, when I wake up in the morning” he continued speaking, as if he wasn’t able to stop talking.

And you weren’t sure you wanted him to.

“I am sorry if it is too much, I’ll change it” you mumbled shyly, moving closer to him, more to get to the separate quarters than to come closer to him, but he quickly stopped you reaching out of your hand.

And suddenly you were well aware he hadn’t touched you since the day of the wedding, not even for accidental touches.

And you found yourself longing for that touch.

“… don’t” he breathed out “… and also keep my pants, they look better on you”.

“They are yours?” you were going strangle Hvitserk “… oh please I am sorry”.

“Don’t need to be” he muttered softly “… now I’ll call the thralls to get you a bath and then we can eat and talk…”.

He seemed unsure of the last phrase and only nodded back at you as you muttered softly ‘yes’, before moving to the bathroom, quickly joined by Turid and Lia that drew you a quick bath, as you were adjusted in a comfortable nightgown, before you slipped in a soft woolen overcoat, more than happy to be babied by the two women.

You dismissed them quickly, seeing the fear of God for Ivar in Lia’s eyes, whereas Turid looked evidently a bit flustered.

Still, you wanted to ask them to stay, unaware of whether you’d be getting the soft Ivar who noticed your perfume or the one who thought you were a bother.

He had sat more comfortably on your bed where various trays full of food were set up, and although you were well aware that it was more food than you could ever digest, you wanted to eat everything.

Ivar had sat down onto the headboard, a pillow propped behind his back, as he tried his best not to look at you.

You settled comfortably, taking a plate and filling it with food, preferring to have any conversation with him with a full stomach.

He mimicked your gestures, and soon you were next to each other, but you weren’t still talking and, for once, you wouldn’t be doing the first move if Ivar didn’t.

He hadn’t even apologized for what he had done.

“… what do you want to know?” Ivar’s mumble was like the raising of a white flag.

And you were so so suddenly brought back to Earth and thought of a proper response although your entire body aching made it difficult for you to think about something that wasn’t the burning in your muscles.

“Ahem… ehm…” he certainly didn’t put you at ease as he stared at you if you were having a staring contest “… what’s your favorite color?”.

It was a harmless question, something that was meant to ease in him to confide in you.

You couldn’t just start with ‘what are your weak spots?’.

Ivar turned to you, with his mouth full and an almost cute expression before it became a sarcastic smirk.

“… my favorite color?” he retorted, and you decided that if he was going to play being a smartass, you’d treat him as such.

“Yeah, like mine is light blue” and suddenly your eyes were captured by his, the perfect shade of light blue “… like the sky”.

Ivar seemed to be thinking about it more than somebody would have thought, before nodding lightly and turning to you, as he looked at you from head to toe with something that made you shiver.

“… red” and you wouldn’t have never guessed “… like blood”.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but Ivar was a man full of surprises.

“… and fire and anything hat symbolized life”.

There was a damned longing in his eyes and it almost made you want to reach out and stroke his cheek, bringing him closer…

… you sank your nail in your palm to calm your quickening breath.

“… red is interesting” you spoke softly, choosing attentively your words “… did you know that famous kings and imperator wore red to symbolize their royal status, because the pigment was extremely expensive?”.

You wanted to close your mouth, in that exact moment.

You should have.

Whenever you were nervous, you’d blurt out random fact, mostly because both Kathleen and Abigail always had fun when you did, but somehow, in this case, they reminded you of home.

Ivar seemed taken aback by what you said, before smirking at you genuinely and simply whispering.

“Interesting…” and then his eyes brightened itself of something tricky “… now it’s my turn to ask a question, isn’t it?”.

You were worried on what he’d ask, going from whether you were a spy to what you thought of him, truly.

But then he exited something from behind his back, tucked under his pillow and you immediately recognized it: your book, the ‘Ars Amatoria’ by Ovid was in your husband’s hands.

It couldn’t go worse.

“What is this, little wife?” he opened the book at a random page and you were well aware, or at least hoped, he wasn’t able to read Latin, because it’d have been extremely ‘funny’ otherwise.

“It’s a book”.

“You are smarter than this (Y/N)” he spoke, and there was a surety and a respect in his voice that made you froze on your spot “… this language isn’t something that I know of, what is it?”.

“It is… Latin” you spoke softly, asking for your book as you moved your hands towards him and he laid the book in your hand, softly as you beamed at the light contact “… it is what ancient Romans spoke, we mostly use it for church but…”.

“That book doesn’t seem a church reading” he retorted, and you couldn’t blame him, since you were well aware of the imagines in it and this time you kept your head straight up onto the book.

“It’s a licentious book, my sister Kathleen stole it for me” you tried to justify yourself.

“Of course, my princess” now he was definitely making fun of you, but his tone had an underlying sweetness that made you blush “… Kathleen stole it”.

And in truth Kathleen hadn’t been the one who stole it, but you.

“… it was written by Ovid in ancient Rome, it was meant to teach men how to…” you blushed and backed away as your voice lowered of an octave “… make women fall in love”.

“Is this a hint for me to take” he spoke softly and annoyed “… because I can’t read Latin”.

“It has… It has a part for women to … to help them make men fall in love with them” you mumbled, rummaging with your hands in your laps, not daring to meet Ivar’s eyes, as you felt yourself like an idiotic child “… it was an hint for me, actually”.

And as you raised your eyes to meet Ivar’s teasing glare, you found out that he was actually the one with his head lowered, his cheeks flaming red and his hand shifting awkwardly onto his lap.

“… none of those things would help with me” he mumbled almost offended, but you could see that he was mostly embarrassed.

“Then what would help?”.

“We don’t have to fall in love to make this all work out…” he replied harshly, but this time you wouldn’t be backing down.

“We don’t” your tone was steady, and this time you moved to look at him in the eyes, even darting to readjust your position as you sat with your back straight, pushing your side onto the pillow on your headboard and Ivar followed attentively the movement of your body “… but it’d be better if we kept a united front. Yyou can’t do this, pushing me away every time you want”.

You knew that nobody had ever talked with Ivar that way, from the surprise in his eyes.

And you had never talked to anybody like that, neither.

“You might think that I am a stupid child who believes in silly fairytales” you spoke with even more conviction “… but behind each story there is truth and a teaching. I might not have any experience in handling an army or a kingdom… but I want to try, and I’ll share my own knowledge with you”.

And although you couldn’t understand fully Ivar’s reaction, since he hid his eyes away from you, his entire body flinched almost as if you had pinched his side.

He had been surprised by your discourse.

You just hoped he agreed.

“… I never said that you are stupid” he muttered, as his hand gently came to grip the one that you had set beside him, making you raise your eyes in surprise “… as a matter of fact I think that you are the smartest in this camping”.

“Then don’t undermine me” even more surprising was the way you kept your tone tight and serious “… don’t push me away in front of everyone, set up your pair of rules but before discuss them with me”.

“Then you have got yourself a deal” he replied, using the same identical world you had used on your first night, as he gently gripped back your hand and you finally let out a smile.

“… just know that this scares me as much as it scares you” you mumbled affectionately.

“Nothing scares me” he huffed arrogantly, and you just sent him a skeptic look.

“… not even snakes?” you asked softly, as he set himself with his back against the headboard, comfortably slumped against it, as he gestured for you to come closer and you slowly did, till your hips touched.

“Are you scared of snakes?” he questioned you, although his tone was softer, almost conspiratorially.

“… and spiders” you mumbled “… once Kathleen got one in my bed, a small slithering thing… I swore I scared the entire staff with my scream”:

“That’s evil” he admitted, as an arm softly snaked around your waist, and you just leaned in, a bit sleepy due to the training, definitely comforted by his warmth.

“… I got my revenge, pushing an owl in her room”.

“That’s even worse” Ivar laughed as you felt yourself slowly relaxing “… please don’t do that with me”.

“I’ll get rats for you” you retorted, as he sent you a harsh joking glare, before you both erupted in laughter.

“… you are an evil creature, princess (Y/N)” he mumbled, turning to you and shooting you a look that made you blush softly “… and poor me who thought that you were a good Christian fearing of God”.

“I am not a Christian, anymore” you replied, as you turned your head to stare at him “… and you still haven’t told me about Sigyn!”.

He seemed surprised that you had remembered it, but with a quick smirk he just settled himself better as he asked before starting the story.

“… I’ll tell you this story and then you tell me one of yours, like the ones that you had in the other book, of the woman turning into a tree…”.

You should have seriously stopped leaving your book around…

“… you have got yourself a deal, prince Ivar”.

“Just call me Ivar”.

* * *

“My princess…” called out to you Caryn as you stared to the flapping fabric that had just brought Ivar away from you.

You had talked with each other about stories, and Ivar’s interest had been absolutely absorbed by your own knowledge and many times you had seen him looking at you with the tail of his eyes, a look of pure adoration as you told him all about it Dafne and Apollo.

‘… would you have chosen to become a tree, if you could have, instead of marrying me?’ had asked you at a certain point Ivar, as he looked at you almost as if he expected you to tell him ‘yes’.

Sometimes he had the mind of a child.

A lonely child.

‘No’ he had seemed surprised back then, but then you had continued, making sure he understood that it wasn’t for him, but for you, yourself “… because I don’t think that living like a tree for the rest of life is a solution. I want to live, desperately, even though it might be stupid’.

‘I think that it is brave’ he had then mumbled, as his hands had darted out a few second from touching your face ‘… braver than most men I have met’.

And you had been sucked in those soft blue eyes, wondering what would have happened if he had brought you closer, kissing you as his entire body asked to, leaning down on you, in a way that was pleasurably oppressing.

But then he had left you and you were doing nothing more than dreaming an impossible scenario.

As Caryn called you.

“… yes, Caryn?” you asked softly as you adjusted your hair away from your face, more to shield your pouting face than anything else.

“Bishop Heahmund is asking of you” she muttered softly, as she came to your side quickly “… would you like me to let him in?”.

“Yes, Caryn, thank you” you mumbled, although the news didn’t completely settle in “… and thank you also for your suggestions about marriage”.

Caryn seemed taken aback by your words, but then swiftly smiled at you, as she took your hand, which you were holding for her.

“I am glad, my princess”.

And then she left you as the tent opened to reveal bishop Heahmund, his face twisted in an annoyed frown and you couldn’t help but be brought back at the harsh reality of it all.

There wasn’t any softness anymore and the dream of feeling Ivar’s plush lips against yours.

Solely the importance of your mission.

“Welcome back, bishop Heahmund” you spoke attentively, your tone keeping itself neutral as Eleanor was still in the room, who accompanied him pull out a chair for him, even going as far as to pour mead in two cups, offering them to you both, before you thanked her and let her god “.. how are my sisters?”.

“Safe and sound” his tone was also damnably hiding its emotions “… how are you my princess? I hope the heathens have been treating you well”.

“They have been” you said, as you brought the cup to your mouth and immediately Heahmund reprimanded you with a quick look.

“You haven’t asked me about your father, my princess” retorted harshly the bishop as you choked on the sweet beverage.

“I do have hope that God will keep him safe, as he is our rightful ruler” you voice was sickly sweet and had Heahmund chosen to notice it, he would have recognized that you were teasing him.

“He sends me to ask about what you found out” now his tone was purely arrogant, and you were the one who reprimanded him.

“I don’t think that this is the place to discuss such things” you spoke directly: not only you had Solveig and Turid outside, but also guards who might not understand Saxons, but would understand when something was being plotted “… and besides: I haven’t found out much”.

“But something is troubling you” he contrasted you, moving closer to you “… listen to your instinct and tell me what you found out”.

And a part of you wanted to tell him the few things you had found out, how fickle the Vikings loyalties truly were, a true weakness for anybody else.

But a part of you felt almost a betrayer in saying so.

Still you were Saxon, throughout everything.

You’d never belong with the heathens.

And more importantly than everything: you had to take care of your sisters.

Your father would get angry with them, hadn’t he gotten what he wanted.

And then you told him everything.

* * *

The feeling of guilt didn’t leave you after your ‘confession’ with bishop Heahmund, it still haunted you, although you should have felt like you had rightfully done your job.

As a good Saxon princess, fearing of God’s word and of His rage.

But the truth was that you hadn’t heard anything from your God in all your life.

Neither when your mother had died, neither when your father had started beating up Kathleen and neither when you had been given to Ivar.

But you had heard of Ivar’s gods, that same night.

You had been getting yourself ready to sleep, although every movement was clumsy, tired by the exercise and the difficulty that you felt at withholding the thought that you had just betrayed your husband.

‘Can’t you just be less dramatic my heart?’ you mumbled to yourself ‘… this morning we would have gladly kicked him in the shins, and now you are bleeding for him… being shipped off to a convent would have been much better’.

Caryn and Turid were at your service, although they were mostly also relaxing from the harsh day as they got your dress ready for the next day, as well as adjusting the ones that Hvitserk had brought you.

He had gotten himself a rather harsh lecture for not only leaving you, but also giving you Ivar’s clothes without you knowing.

He had simply smirked at you and mumbled a simple ‘you are welcome’, before sprinting off.

And you had hated yourself even more.

Suddenly a violent wind entered in your tents, making the few candles around the tent go out as both Caryn and Turid raised from their seats, you shrank in yourself.

You had always been scared of darkness.

Immediately the wind stopped, but not before it let in something for you, as Turid and Caryn moved to light up some new candles and suddenly a unexpected visitor was in your room: a small raven, croaking lightly as it stood on the pavement of the tent, inching slowly closer to you and your handmaidens.

Turid seemed taken aback, but Caryn moved to shoo away the small animal, before you stopped and lightly crouched down, pushing the small bird to gently grab your finger with his steely hands, as it beaked lightly your legs, making you laugh lightly.

“My lady, don’t play with him, he might be dirty!” commented Caryn worried, but you just shushed her with a quick hand gesture, as the small crow moved onto your lap, settling there as if he owned the place, making you laugh softly.

You petted him as one would have done with a stray kitten, eventually and carefully taking it in your hands, as you raised up, ordering the two girls to collect you something for it to nest comfortably in.

Caryn looked at you like crazy, but who truly worried you was Turid, who had this fanatical look in her eyes that made you feel at extreme unease.

At least till the crow beaked back your hand, to get your attention.

“Ahh you are acting exactly like Kathleen” you mumbled, as you softly teased the crow, stretching lightly its wing to watch if it was broken or something, but it seemed definitely fine “… you just wanted to stay inside and be warm”.

The small crow looked up at you, as if to agree, and you just laughed lightly before Turid finished the nest of old rags, settling it onto the bedside table, as another sudden opening of the door, surprised you, three, again, as the small crow croaked loudly for attention.

Ivar appeared on the threshold and sent you a confused look, before mumbling as he threw away his crutch in an angle, Turid coming to help him.

“… what is this fuss about?”.

“A little raven came in here” you explained softly, as a hand shoutout to the soft volatile “… apparently it was too cold for him to be outside”.

Silence was his only response and as you raised your head to look at him, as he and Turid shared a quick look, before he came closer to you, looking at you and the little crow, gently caressing his feathers.

The raven seemed to wake himself up and immediately beaked at Ivar’s hand, making him hiss as you giggled, gently turning him to face you as you childishly whimpered.

“No no, bad birdie, don’t hurt him” and the small animal just sent you a quick look as if to say ‘whatever’.

But Ivar didn’t seem to be in the slightest annoyed.

“… the… the raven came here on its own?” he asked as if it was the most surprising thing ever.

“Yes, it did, swept in by a wind” you spoke softly, as the bird softly cradled himself in your caressing hand “… would you like it to go away? Because it is just a small raven, it won’t… I’ll make sure it’ll behave”.

You didn’t know how you had become so suddenly attached to a small raven, but you couldn’t fathom the thought of the small bird out in the cold.

“No, no, it can stay” his tone continued on being damnably surprised “… but I’d like for us to talk alone”.

Turid took the ‘suggestion’ immediately, shooting you both a small look as she bowed, but Caryn insisted on staying a bit more, checking you and the fireplace, before bowing and taking her leave, with an harsh look to Ivar.

“… it is damnably interesting to see how loyal you can make people around you” he mumbled as he stared at the small crow “You should teach me how”.

“Just treat others like people” you mumbled, as you guided him to bed, to help him with his braces.

“… even when they don’t treat you like a person?”.

“Especially then” you muttered, as you finished your work and set yourself beside Ivar “… is there anything strange about the crow?”.

“No no, absolutely” although you couldn’t see him in this position, his tone had something of euphoric “… did you know that Odin had two ravens?”.

You shook lightly your head, slowly following his train of thought.

“Hugin and Munnin, who whispers everything they know at him” he muttered softly, as your hands joined on top of the small raven, who had fallen asleep soundly “… apparently our marriage is blessed by Odin, my princess”.

* * *

The following week started and Heahmund became more pressuring with his questions, even more now that Ivar seemed to spend more time with you, but there was no use in telling him the stories you exchanged with him, before falling asleep.

Neither Ivar’s happiness about Odin blessing your marriage.

The husband who had been so cold to you just a week back then, now made it no qualm to show his proudness at having you by his side, although he still kept you and his work separated.

But it made you feel good.

What didn’t make you feel good was Heahmund’s questioning.

You escaped it training with Nanna, strengthening your hold on your body or with the other handmaidens having created a trusted link between all of you, except Angelika.

But she mostly kept to herself, even more now that your marriage was steadier, but you had seen her many times trying to spy on you, not to talk about the fact that she didn’t do much, and many of her fellow handmaidens, complained about her.

Eventually they all ended up against her, and that afternoon when she hadn’t come back from her small visit in the woods to collect some flowers alongside the others, meanwhile you trained, nobody noticed.

Or if they did, they didn’t worry.

Till you noticed that the afternoon was going too smoothly.

And then noticed that Angelika was missing.

‘Does anyone know where she is?’ you asked around, storming around your handmaidens, who all shook their hands, gossiping and giggling, till you screamed exasperated ‘… how could you have let her alone?!’.

‘We thought you wouldn’t have missed her! She is so mean with everyone!’ mumbled Arabella, and you just shook your head, leaving them as you went to collect both Halfdan and Hvitserk.

‘An handmaiden of mine, she… she hasn’t come back from the woods, and I am getting worried, soon it’ll be dark and…’ both of them had looked at you like crazy ‘… I’ll go alone if I have to’.

‘Ivar will kill him if you do it alone’ mumbled Hvitserk, as Halfdan followed you both quickly to the stables as you got all three an horse, so that you could patrol the woods faster and you moved quickly, shouting Angelika’s name.

You were worried: not only it would be soon dark, the sunset appearing in a bloody pink shade, but you knew that beasts hunted the woods and you hoped desperately not to arrive too late.

And let out a huge relieved breath as you saw the beautiful woman, something crazed in her light eyes, as her hair spoke of having met a tree a bit too closely.

You moved the horse to come near to her, she jumped back scared and you quickly dismounted Bukefalos, the soft horse pushing itself on his two legs, scaring Angelika, as she moved behind a tree.

But you shushed the horse, turning to Angelika, whose eyes shone of recognition.

And you dared coming closer, extending to her your hands, as you took in her ripped dress.

“I… I thought… nobody would…” pride still shone in her eyes, but it didn’t hide the fear she had felt.

“I came for you, Angelika, and I’ll get you back to the camping, ok?” you spoke gently, as you would have done to Bukefalos, when he was scared, as the other woman nodded softly, and took your hand, letting you guide her.

“There were men…” she spoke and you didn’t give it too much thought, thinking it was the blabber of a tired and lost woman, but then she opened her mouth again “… they said… they said… they’d poison…”.

You immediately turned to her, as she looked at you in the eyes suddenly lucid, but still lost in the moment of that discovery.

“… I was lost and I was about to shout, but then I heard voices, I thought of coming closer, but then… they were in Norse… my mom, she insisted I learned Norse, she was… she had some properties… they were talking together and they said they’d poison the youngest prince”.

‘The youngest prince’ that was the name Caryn had used for Ivar.

That was it.

“We have to go back, immediately” you ushered Angelika, helping her onto your horse, as Halfdan and Hvitserk joined you, scared by your suddenness.

“… somebody has poisoned Ivar, I need to go back” both Hvisterk and Halfdan looked at you confused, before you spurred Bukefalos to run, a crazy preoccupation in your mind as you tried your best to keep calm “… move your asses and ride back”.

And then you and Bukefalos, left them with Angelika digging her fingers in your sides, as you moved as fast as you could towards the camping.

Angelika had been lost for quite some time, so you didn’t know how much time you had left, even less as you reasoned with yourself that if anybody had wanted to poison somebody else they’d have attempted something by dinner, and dinner time was slowly approaching, as the sky became darker and darker.

Angelika against you was silent, for once, but not only her grip onto your waist tightened enough to be hurtful, but you could feel tears dampening your small mantle.

You’d need a talk with her and the girls, after you avoided your husband being poisoned.

As you arrived at the camping, the guards immediately letting you step inside, as they saw Bukefalos, but you dismounted immediately, giving them the horse and taking Angelika with you, as you both ran to the Great Hall.

‘We could eat together in the Great Hall’ had proposed that morning Ivar ‘… to give everyone a proof that our marriage is steady’.

But from the twinkle in his eyes you knew that he wanted to desperately show you off.

And you hadn’t minded it.

You had loved it.

As you came to the Great Hall, you could already hear the noises of men coming together and partying, and as you walked in, every rumor came to its end, and everyone turned to look at you and Angelika, who instinctively hid behind you, meanwhile Ivar raised from his seated position.

“My sweet wife has finally joined us” he shouted, a proud tone, that made you blush, but your attention was immediately brought back by his cup of mead, as he raised it to cheer, his brothers, Ubbe and Bjorn, doing the same.

And before you knew it you were sprinting in his direction and almost insanely knocked the cup off his hand, as in the silence the cup made an awful sound.

And it got the attention of everyone in the room.

Alongside your husband.

Who looked at you like a mad woman, before you mumbled just for him to hear:

“I do believe that I just saved you from being poisoned, husband” you muttered as you, examined his food, unable to properly understand whether poison was in it, or there wasn’t anything “… Angelika heard two men plotting to poison you”.

You almost expected Ivar not to believe you.

As soon as you had uttered the words, you had felt how stupid they must have felt.

Maybe Angelika had just heard everything wrong, and…

But you couldn’t stop the harsh pumping of your heart, as you tried to calm yourself, but it was of no use because Ivar’s gaze tightened on you, as he quickly grabbed one of your hands, gesturing to Angelika to come closer.

All the attention of the Great Hall was set onto you, and Bjorn came closer, to ask ‘if you had had a lover spat’.

“Somebody tried to poison me, according to my wife” mumbled Ivar, as Ubbe tried to calm everyone and get them to go right back at what they were doing, but he didn’t seem to be able to catch the attention of anybody.

“… that’s not…” tried to mumble Bjorn, as he looked around the Great Hall for a poisonous gaze, before he turned to you “… how did you discover it?”.

“Angelika heard men talking of poisoning Ivar” you spoke, softly, as you lightly pushed Angelika towards the men, holding her tight to your hip, feeling all too well how scared she was of everything.

The attention of everyone on her definitely not helping.

“… yes… I know Norse… because my mom has some…kingdoms…” she spoke, but every attempt to go around the theme were shattered by Bjorn’s commanding gaze “… I got lost in the forest this afternoon, the girls had come back early, I wanted… I was walking around, and I found these men… they were hooded but I heard them speaking in Norse, I thought I’d ask them… for information, but then they mentioned of poisoning the prince, tonight…”.

Ivar’s gaze was too focused to reveal any emotion, as his grip onto your hand stayed strong and you kept yourself, calmly grounded, hoping he’d believe you.

Because Bjorn wasn’t certainly.

“She might be lying” he immediately spoke, and Angelika seemed to regain her sassy personality, pushing herself to speak to the huge bear as if he wasn’t anything more than an annoying man.

“I am not lying, you heathen!” she retorted, as you grabbed her to hold her back from insulting further your brother-in-law.

“What reason might she have of lying?” you spoke in her defense, as you stood your ground “… she might have kept herself quiet and it would have been more useful for her, since she might have been free”.

“You might have also been free” spoke a voice that hadn’t joined the talk till now and both you and your husband turned to Harald, who had joined the conversation a cup of mead in his hands.

You looked at him offended, and this time it was Angelika who sent him an annoyed look for you, withholding you back.

“… believe me I am not held in a cage” you spoke lowly, almost as a threat, and Bjorn was quick to dissipate the tension.

“We’ll throw away Ivar’s food and we’ll get a new plate, to avoid it being poisoned” and you huffed out a breath of relief, but your husband wasn’t done with any of this, even remotely.

“I want to know who tried to poison me” replied sternly Ivar, and as much as you wanted nothing more than to forget about this entire thing, you were aware exactly like him that the poisoner would have tried again.

That would have ruined any man’s life, and eventually they would have been too tired and made a mistake.

“What are we waiting for?!” suddenly a man shouted, but you immediately recognized him as Vaghnar, the man who had hurt Caryn and your gaze focused on him, but also Angelika, who immediately gripped your hand, before pushing herself to whisper in your ear:

“It’s him”.

And you choked out a soft huff, before the man turned to the table, Ivar, immediately feeling you stiffening against him, as the exaltation of the Great Hall was broken apart from Hvitserk and Halfdan entering, a nice distraction for you to whisper in Ivar’s ear.

“It’s him”.

Ivar sent you a look as if to ask you if you are sure and you redirected it to Angelika, who was shivering as she came closer to you.

“Vaghnar” Ivar’s voice quieted the entire hall and the man turned to him, a drunken giggle on his face “… you do know that poisoning a prince is a crime?”.

The way he spoke was as somebody would have spoken with a child, in an insulting way that didn’t go unnoticed to Vaghnar.

“… are you accusing me of something, my prince?” he spoke back, his tone suddenly growing harsh.

“No, I’ll just show you as generous I am” Ivar humored him, grabbing the cup you had pushed away from his hands, a little mead in it, but it was enough for Ivar to present it alongside his plate “… I’ll let you eat my own portion of food, and drink from own horn, isn’t it nice?”.

And suddenly Vaghnar wasn’t drunk anymore.

And he just looked like he was choking on his own breath.

“I… I can’t… that is too much… for me”.

“Or maybe it is because you poisoned my food”.

Vaghnar’s face spoke loudly of how guilty he was.

But then his voice spoke even loudly a lie.

“She ordered me to!” he shouted, before he pointed one finger to the royal table, and it landed on you.

You were confused, but suddenly were brought back as you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

But the ones that truly pained you were Ivar’s.

“No no, he is lying!” you retorted, although you were well aware that you weren’t offering many convincing proofs “… I would never! He is my husband, I wouldn’t…”.

“I heard him speaking with another man! Not a woman!” spoke back swiftly Angelika, surprising you “… and look at her! She wouldn’t hurt a fly!”.

“But she spoke with me… she stole that slave of yours from me to send me messages!”.

“It isn’t true” you insisted, but Harald moved up to you, and replied.

“Didn’t you send your slave the dark-skinned girl to Heahmund, a few days ago?”.

He caught you unable to reply, as you stammered a few words, but Ivar’s eyes left your body, as his hand left yours, and you felt like he had chosen who to believe.

And you were as good as dead, if he thought you had plotted to poison him.

“I don’t deny having sent a missive to Heahmund, about my sisters! You might check” although you hoped they wouldn’t “… but I have never ever talked with this man…”.

“She made me do it” spoke loudly Halfdan, effectively nailing your nail to your own cross, the innocent victim of his and his brother’s plotting.

You shouldn’t have been surprised.

He walked closer as he dropped his head, not wanting to see you in the eyes.

But you held your head higher, as they stoned you with their glares.

“… she asked me to talk with him, but I told her no I would never ever harm my prince” he spoke, as you grimaced, hoping that somebody would have put an end to all these lies.

But unlike him, you were a stranger in all of this.

“… she attempted to poison you, my prince”.

“No I didn’t, Ivar…” you screamed at him, hoping that pity would have helped you “... let me explain you”.

But he didn’t care, he simply gestured to his guards:

“Guards take her back to our tent” he spoke, as two men gripped you tight, Angelika trying desperately to get them away from you but you simply calmed her with a steady gaze “… I’ll decide what to do with her, in the meanwhile”:

And like that you were utterly fucked.

Posta


	5. The Betrayed Ruler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only you are found with an accusation over your head, but soon everything that you craddled close to your heart in a foreign land is going to be put to the test, and not everything might be as you truly thought it was.

##  _The Betrayed Ruler:_

_He could not steal my might  
And it seems to be  
I have found a way…_

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=MDljMTJmZjc5MzExMTE3NGM5MTY4Y2I2MGM2NmZmNmU3NmQyMjgyYSxpTzNUTTdVeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190738105989%2Fto-kill-a-king&m=1) _

Sunlight creeped through the tent, but for you it could have still been nighttime.

Your mind had stopped working since you had entered your tent, the guards sealing you inside, alongside Caryn and Angelika, and you had simply set yourself fall on the bed, where you still were.

You hadn’t been able to focus on much else than replaying the last conversation with Ivar you had had before you had been sent away by him, as you tried to find a loophole through it.

But every time you came close to it, the pain of not having been believed shot through you as a burning hot flame.

You knew that he had done what any rational man could have done.

But you believed…

… what did you truly believe?

That he would have finally and truly chosen you?

What a stupid girl.

Maybe Angelika was right.

She had been running up and down the perimeter of the tent, to the point that you were sure that her shoes had burned a trail in its floor, as she lout out huff loud, being shut up by an also lost Caryn.

She had joined you a bit later than Angelika, probably because Ivar had wanted her opinion before he saw you, but you weren’t sure.

You hadn’t asked her, stuck in your thoughts.

“… we should run” uttered Angelika, as she came to a halt in her walk “… we should definitely run”.

“Do you expect the guards to simply lets us pass” replied hastily Caryn, shooting her an annoyed look, and Angelika replied with an even harsher one.

“… no, I don’t think it’ll be that easy, but we can distract them, grab a horse…” she tried to mumble.

“It wouldn’t work” you uttered surprising them both, as you raised your head to meet their faces and you simply shook your head, to assure what you had just said “… we wouldn’t get far enough and we wouldn’t certainly save our reputation”.

“I know this might surprise you, princess…” scoffed loudly Angelika “… but right now your reputation isn’t the best”.

“And running away would just worsen it” using that tight tone took quite some energy from you and almost as if she realized it, Caryn moved to grab you a bit of water, for which you were thankful.

“Then what is the plan?” asked Angelika, unable to stay put, which didn’t help you easing up the headache you had been having “… don’t tell me that you have been just moping about that savage not believing you?”.

Gosh, you honestly hoped she could be just less smart.

“The plan is that we repeat our confession, we talk about it calmly and lightly and we don’t give them an option to doubt us” you explained, trying to keep your tone calm.

“… that won’t be very effective” mumbled tightly Angelika, and you couldn’t deny that it was true.

Even Caryn didn’t look quite convinced but tried her best to still her worry.

“We can’t do much” you stated, the only truth “… running isn’t an option, we’d be found immediately, this is their territory and we wouldn’t last a single day”.

“So, all we can do is pray” mumbled pessimistically Caryn.

“And cover our own asses” cursed loudly Angelika “… this is the time, princess, to set up our versions”.

“What do you mean?” asked her Caryn, confused.

“That we indeed cover our asses” you explained, mimicking Angelika’s words, as she turned to you shocked “… see if we have anything that can incriminate us further, poison, letters and…”.

Weapons.

Gosh, what would have they thought if they had found the knife in your stuff.

It wouldn’t have played any favor towards you.

But honestly, nothing seemed to do so.

You wouldn’t have been certainly sent to death, at least not with bishop Heahmund in the camping, since he would have reported the news to your father, and it’d have been a way to properly start a war.

But what worried you was that you might be either rejected as a wife, thrown away.

And although at first the thought of this wouldn’t have weighted on you, since you had actually been desiring the convent life, now…

… now that you knew life outside of the castle walls, you just… you just didn’t know.

But worst of all… if you were ever rejected… and thrown back to your father…

… he wouldn’t have been happy.

And it would have been as if Ivar, himself, signing a death sentence for you.

Even more when you thought that, although you might not die, Ivar might take it out on Angelika and Caryn.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ll take all the blame, if things fall down” you explained softly, as you looked at them in the eyes “… if they ask, you didn’t have any involvement in this, understand me?”.

“Why?” asked Angelika, confused “… are you aiming to gain the ‘saint’ title?”.

Although her tone was biting, it wasn’t as poisonous as usual.

And she looked honestly worried.

You still were surprised by the fact that she hadn’t sided against you, after the poisoning plan had been revealed, instead staying with.

Something which had made you realize that maybe she wasn’t so tough.

“… my princess, don’t you think… it is too rushed” suggested Caryn, honestly surprised.

Something similar to guilt shining in her eyes, but you simply ducked your head away from her wandering and worried gaze.

“If anything happens to you, I won’t stop feeling guilty, believe me” you promised, even sending a look at Angelika, who had lowered her eyes, ashamed “… so don’t open your mouths”.

Suddenly the tent was open, and a guard appeared, signaling to you that Ivar was finally ready to listen your excuses and wanted to see you and Caryn.

You weren’t able to know whether it was a good thing, because your mind went finally blank, or bad, since you weren’t also able to come up with a plan.

You nodded, but as you were moving, Angelika gripped your hand, stopping you and making you turn around.

Caryn moved forward and told the guard to wait a few minutes with steely eyes, as they left and gave you the privacy to talk with Angelika.

“I know what you are feeling…” she whispered, trying not to be heard by the guard, although they didn’t speak your language “… alone and left behind, that’s what I felt in the wood… that was what I have felt each moment in my life”.

You were suddenly surprised by the loneliness you felt in her eyes, but she let you feel it just for a few minutes, before her grip onto your wrist became more intense, making you lose your focus.

“… nobody had ever come for me, like you did, princess, when the Vikings came… my family… my own fiancée left me behind…” this time your title wasn’t stained with any sarcasm “… and for that I’ll be for ever grateful to you for coming for me, so please know that whatever will be the verdict… I’ll stick by your side”.

You were surprised by her sudden change of loyalty, but you couldn’t stand further, knowing that every wasted minute might have been a moment of doubt for Ivar.

But you’d have to talk more with Angelika, after all this was over.

“Thank you, Angelika” you replied to her, and turned but stopped as she uttered softly.

“I was wrong about what I said when we first met…” she mumbled, almost biting the words and chewing on them “… you might change him”.

“I hope so”.

And you went out of the tent, the dress of the previous night sticking to your body for the cold sweat you had on your body because of the anxious feeling that tightened your chest.

But you decided, after Angelika’s words, that you wouldn’t have simply bowed your head.

You had stood up to him already, now you had to do it again.

If not for yourself, definitely for the people around you.

The ones who believed in you.

The guards pushed you, as you and Caryn were grabbed by an arm each to be led.

You protested at the uncomfortable gesture the guards simply looked at you with a wolfish grin.

“… are you going to faint, again, princess?” sneered at you one, as the other, that was grabbing onto your arm, lightly pulled again, making you almost trip on your own feet.

“You won’t treat me like that, I am your princess” because if last time you had let them do what they wanted with you, without protesting, you weren’t going to let them rule your life again.

“… I don’t think that you’ll be our princess for much longer” muttered the one who had pushed you, and you turned to him, standing straighter as you breathed out to calm yourself and then uttered.

“That might be true, but that is yet to be proved” you explained “… and I am still a princess of an English kingdom, so the next time you’ll address me as that. And believe me, if you don’t, I’ll make sure you know how much I am annoyed with your arrogance”.

And that was enough for your journey to be a silent one, although you could already see where it was aimed: Ivar’s personal study.

So, you were surprised as you entered it, finding Ivar and Hvitserk, the former sat down as he examined various piece of papers and the latter on his side, a mix of optimism and unease in his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t wanted to be there.

And you couldn’t blame him.

The guards left you and you didn’t forget to thank them with a quick look.

Enough to see them shiver lightly as they turned.

“Sit down, you two” ordered Ivar, although an enigmatic smirk grazed his figure.

But his tone was stern and you clutched tightly your hands in your lap, lowering your eyes, because, although you would have tried everything you could to save yourself, you wouldn’t have given Ivar any possibility to doubt you.

“… how do you plead” he asked you, as he sent a look on your way, making you raise your head to meet his eyes.

To make him understand that not only you weren’t afraid.

But you weren’t afraid because you had nothing to hide.

You were speaking the truth.

“I didn’t poison you, Ivar” you spoke, and his smirk became tight and you were sure he’d protest or…

“I believe you”.

You choked on your breath, as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“… what?” you asked, unsure if you had heard right or not.

“I do know for sure that you didn’t try to poison me” he explained to you “I know it was Vaghnar who did, and it was Harald and Halfdan who told him to”.

“How…?” you felt like you weren’t able to let out of the anxiety and hurt you had been harboring for the entire night, as if it was too good to be real.

“Hvitserk, a few days ago, told me that Halfdan had approached you, and we have been thinking that they would have certainly tried to undermine you or put you against me, even more after everything that has happened at the wedding…” you hadn’t considered it honestly “… I knew he’d be trying something against me, using you, and I thought of giving him a slight push… didn’t I, Caryn?”.

And Caryn, beside you, shivered at that tone, as you turned to her, worried.

But she didn’t spare you a single look, as she instead stood straighter in her seat, her eyes on her lap.

“I was asked to take care of it” she asked, as her words seemed to pain her, and you couldn’t understand truly what was going on.

Because if you did it, it would have maybe hurt you more than the thought of Ivar not believing you.

“Ex…excuse me?”.

“I made a deal with Ivar” she didn’t look proud of it, in the slightest “… I should have… kept an eye on Vaghnar, he was my owner, I had heard of him… planning with Harald and… Ivar came to me. He told me that he’d give me freedom again”.

“I offered her a deal. Be my spy, report me everything and be a free woman or just stay with Vaghnar”.

And it was obvious what she had chosen.

She had spied on you, for him.

But it also meant that she could testify that you had never intended to poison Ivar.

“Then why didn’t you defend me?” you asked softly, your voice almost unable to leave the cavern of your voice “… back in the Great Hall”.

Because anger was everything that you could feel.

“I would have publicly accused Halfdan and Harald of having lied, without any proof other than a slave’s opinion” he explained as if it was the most normal thing ever “… I needed to show that I wasn’t questioning them, to let them think that they had won and come back stronger.

“And you let me squander in my tent with the sureness of something horrible happening” you uttered loudly, surprising Ivar and Caryn, who flinched beside you and before you knew it you had raised yourself, hitting Ivar on the shoulder, with you open palm.

He didn’t seem in the slightest fazed by it and as you came back from anger, you felt your hand pulsing painfully, because of the hit.

“Feeling better?” asked Ivar, as he shot you an intense look.

And you couldn’t help but be surprised by his calm reaction.

You had expected him to reply with violence, and although you had been too numb to fear him, you couldn’t deny that his unfazed expression surprised you.

“Yes”.

“I am glad, because I need that brilliant mind of yours to focus on a plan to explain why you didn’t poison me, without insulting Halfdan and Harald. A plan that could possibly get them away… far away from us”.

Your brain had officially shut down.

First Ivar let you be treated awfully and think the worst and now he wanted you there, even complimenting you.

You honestly didn’t know what more would happen.

Would Hvitserk reveal himself to be a hidden catholic?

Because after Caryn’s reveal, everything was possible to your eyes.

“… I don’t… I can’t think straight” you explained “… I have had just too much emotions for one day”.

“Focus on one thing at the time” suggested Hvitserk, coming closer to you, and you tried not to think about the fact that he had also been in in this plan, against you.

The worst was that the sole one who had been loyal to you was Angelika.

And you tried, desperately, pushing away any thoughts as you tried to focus on the matter.

Halfdan had accused you, hence denying the evidence would have simply pushed the Ragnarssons in worse problems than the ones they were already in, and you couldn’t simply reveal Caryn’s role, again because it would have showed that the sons of Ragnar didn’t trust them.

You couldn’t simply deny the truth.

… but what if you didn’t.

“I have an idea”.

And Ivar’s mouth opened in a full smirk, as he nodded your head to invite you to talk.

“I knew that you wouldn’t disappoint me”.

* * *

You couldn’t deny that you were suddenly anxious again due to the whispers that were uttered as you walked in the Great Hall, beside Ivar, a few guards trailing after you as the doors closed behind you, signaling silence.

In the end, everyone was curious to know what would have been your destiny.

You were guided to sit down beside Ivar, as Bjorn and Ubbe came closer to Ivar, and the latter sent you a light look as if to check if you had intention to attempt to kill another son of Ragnar.

Which you would have gladly, if he kept looking at you up and down.

“Brother, are you sure?” asked Bjorn as he leaned down to face Ivar, who simply nodded his head, a light and easy expression on his face, unlike your anxious one, which you used to cover your annoyance and anger at being used as a pawn by Ivar.

But you should have expected that.

But you would have never ever seen it coming from Caryn

“… well then communicate your decision to our people” ordered Bjorn and Ivar shared a small look with you, almost to check if you were ready, and you nodded, sure you wouldn’t have ever been ready.

“My army” he uttered, but he didn’t need to catch anybody’s attention, since it was already on him.

And you.

“My wife has been accused of having tried to poison me” he told them, as he kept his eyes on everyone of them “… and that is indeed true”.

You had foreseen the reaction it’d cast on the army, but the violence of it still choked the breath in your lungs as war screams and harsh glares were sent to you, in words you didn’t understand, but knew were insults, from the tone.

“But…” he spoke loudly, overcoming their combined voices “… she did it behind my orders”.

And again, silence fell, and you lightly raised your head, breathing softly.

“… I have known for quite some time that Vaghnar had been trying to attempt to murder me, but I didn’t know when and where it’d happen” he explained calmly.

You knew that the entire thing wouldn’t have worked if Ivar hadn’t acted that way.

That self-assured and calm way that you wished you owned.

And made you lightly blush.

“So, I asked my very brave and blessed wife…” he turned to you with a well-faked lovesick smile, that you returned with your best conviction “… to set up a meeting to Vaghnar, to convince him to collaborate again me and to poison me”.

Both Halfdan and Harald, who stood right in the front row, paled.

“That’s why she sent her own slave to set up a meeting and that is why Halfdan was also involved, to make the story more believable…” and he turned to a scared Halfdan “… thank you, for being truthful when needed, I do believe that now I can trust you, fully”.

It was obviously sarcastic and a secret threat to anyone who knew how things had gone and you joined in Ivar’s gaze at the two brothers, as you tried to let them know, that you knew what they had done.

And you wouldn’t forgive them.

“So, in order to celebrate this loyalty and to prove our strength, we’ll have a feast, in honor of the gods and…” he neared his look at Halfdan “… Halfdan! Since he’ll be leaving us for the Mediterranean, alongside my brother Bjorn”.

Bjorn’s raised his fist as Halfdan’s face presented the horror of what Ivar had just sentenced him.

Exile.

And as much as you tried to feel pity for him, you couldn’t.

He had tried to gain your loyalty, just to use it for his own purposes.

“The feast will be in five days” proclaimed Ivar, before sitting beside you, as he joined your hands together over the table, pushing them towards his lips as he kissed your knuckle “… to love and loyalty!”.

To your heart breaking and your life crumpling apart.

\---

As you approached your tent, you felt Hvitserk on your tail, but you just rushed in, coming face to face with a guilty Caryn, who tried to speak up, but you shut her up quickly with a gesture of your hand.

“I don’t blame you for your choices, you have a family” as you did, and that was why you understood her position.

It was yours.

But you couldn’t simply push down and away the anger.

And you didn’t want to push it onto Caryn.

“I wanted to…”.

“Caryn, I get it” and you hoped your eyes conveyed it “… but right now… I don’t have the energy to face you”.

She seemed disappointed, almost heartbroken and again… that… that part of you that was feeling betrayed, just wanted nothing more than hurt her.

But you just pushed past her, moving to your trunks, glad that they hadn’t been searched, as you tried to release the reality of worry you had lived till you had confronted Ivar.

You pushed your nails in your palms as you thought again about the humiliation Ivar had put you through.

Hvitserk came in front of you, looking at you over your trunks, as you instead grabbed the first pair of pants and shirts you found, intending to exercise the adrenaline strike in your body, which ached to rest but you felt unable to, till at least you let out some anger.

“Where are you going?” asked confused Hvitserk, as he tried to put a hand over yours, but you simply slapped it away.

“To train” you muttered “Like I do each day”.

“I don’t think that is wise” he replied, tension appearing in his eyes, as you held his gaze.

“I don’t think that is wise standing in my way right now” you muttered slowly, anger pointing out each word.

“You shouldn’t…” he tried to speak, but you didn’t seem in the slightest swayed, as you crossed your arms under your chest to show him that you would have denied anything that he would have said.

“What I need right now is to punch something, and I either punch you or you me get to my training” and you were convincing enough that Hvitserk moved away, exiting the tent with a huff.

And you dressed up quickly as you exited alone, collecting Bukefalos and already seeing the shift in the Viking people.

Although at first, they had regarded you with a surprised interest, they now looked at you with bowed had and suspecting eyes.

Although Ivar’s explanation had worked on easing the doubts, it certainly hadn’t helped with your image.

You hated it all more and were more than grateful to ride dangerously on Bukefalos, who matched your snappy mood, helping you getting past the crowd quite quickly as you embraced his neck.

He tried to comfort you with a quick lick, but you were trembling, almost aching and all too happy to undergo whatever series of torturing exercises Nanna had for you, as you dug your fingers in the mud till they became muddy, as well and some of your nails broke.

But you didn’t feel pain.

And neither fatigue.

And when Nanna came to check on you, you could see that she was secretly impressed, but quickly dismissed you, accompanying you to your horse, for what you thought would be a private talk.

“I didn’t poison him, if you are curious”.

“Of course, I know that!” she spat out, sending you an annoyed look “… you might not have the strength to pull your body up, but certainly the gods have blessed you with a working brain”.

“What?”.

Was that a backhanded compliment?

“… you are too smart to let Ivar know that you are poisoning him” she explained as if it was the most natural thing in the world “… if you did poison him, he would already be dead”.

“How can you say that?”.

“Because if prince Ivar has chosen you, you must have had something that made the choice worthy” again her tone was annoyed, as if she was explaining this to a petulant child “… and I see how you stabilize yourself through exercises, you use the least amount of energy to get the best result. Not even the best soldiers can do it”.

You just got two compliments by Nanna.

Were you having problem hearing?

“… oh, that is… nice?”.

“If you need to let out anymore rage…” she mumbled, as she turned “… don’t hesitate to let it out here, or on your husband, that fucker deserves it”.

You were definitely having trouble hearing.

Bukefalos welcomed you back with a lick, and you smiled tiredly at him, definitely empty of all those frustrations and without enough strength to think properly, as your mind just thought about all the sleep you’d have once you were back in the tent.

And both Turid and Solveig had to poke your ribs to get you to get out of the bathtub, once you were back in the tent, because the water had grown cold, and the coldness of it brought you back to reality.

You looked in Solveig and Turid’s eyes to find out whether they believed you or not.

If they thought that you could have done it.

And if they were also spying on you for Ivar.

You wouldn’t have been surprised.

You had been naïve, although you had tried to protect your own privacy and secrecy.

You needed to be more attentive at those around you.

You were already waiting for Ivar in bed, having dismissed the handmaidens and eaten dinner alone, more to give yourself some alone time before everything erupted than because you wanted to be left alone.

As Ivar entered the tent, he was smart enough to recognize the air of tension and asked one of the guards to undo his calibers (he had called them like that, once he had explained you, as he talked about how he had created them), meanwhile you pushed further your nose in the book.

“Have you eaten?” he asked dryly, almost tasting out the earth under his feet, just receiving a slight nod from you, who also delved further in the book “… that book must be interesting”.

“Very” your answer was so sharp that you heard Ivar take a deep intake of breath, before he hissed it out.

“You are angry with me”.

“Oh, you are so smart” again that dry tone, and when Ivar, grabbed your hand you almost expected him to push the book out of your hands and then slap you.

Your father wouldn’t have certainly hesitated to do just that.

But Ivar’s grip was almost soothing on your wrists as he lightly drew circles in your skin, eventually getting you to release your grip on the book that fell silently on your lap.

And you were faced with those sky-blue eyes.

“… I am sorry for whatever you angry at me for”.

And this just made your anger flare up again, as you pushed your hands away from his grip, with Ivar effectively releasing your hands due to his surprise to your reaction.

“… ‘for whatever you are angry at me for’?” you asked him “I am angry at you, because not only you let me think that you truly believed Halfdan…”.

“I didn’t” he muttered, his tone tight and his eyes pleading as he looked at you.

“Don’t interrupt me” you shushed him violently “… but you also put somebody to spy on me!”.

“Don’t be so shocked” he retorted, his voice having grown angry, but he was trying to repress it, clutching tight his fists by his side “… and it wasn’t you who I set her spying on”.

“Then swear to me, you didn’t ask her about me, ever” you harshly muttered, sending him a harsh look, and he effectively lowered his eyes.

How stupid and naïve had you been to think that he could truly trust you.

A minute of silence filled the room.

“… you know what our problem is Ivar…” you spoke lowly as you tried to calm and steady your breath “… you make promises that you can’t hold and I do not believe that you can be truthful”.

That hit Ivar deep and before you knew it, his grip was again tight on your wrist, hurtful tight.

“I don’t break promises” his tone was angry, and you couldn’t help but shrink away from him, or try to, due to his tight grip.

And you couldn’t help but feel again like you were in your father’s castle.

Although he hadn’t dared to hit you and Abigail, he had no qualms to rough you up lightly, tightening his hold on you, till it bruised or looking at you so ragefully that you almost imagined the slap he had never given you.

And you couldn’t help but feel the same with Ivar.

Who understood your discomfort and quickly released the grip.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you” he mumbled, almost scared of your reaction, shy as he tried to gain your attention.

But you were frozen, as you moved to your side of the bed, setting yourself down and closing your house as you faked being asleep, meanwhile Ivar pleaded you to talk to him.

To get angry at him, to scream.

But as always, when it happened with your father, you were just frozen in your body.

Shut in and barely breathing.

* * *

Sleep had been difficult, not simply because it had taken you quite some time to get yourself tired enough not to be able to keep your lids open, but also you had rolled around the bed and you could feel again sweat coating your nightgown and something else between your legs.

You thought it was again simple sweat.

It’d sometimes coat the inside of your thighs, with all your heavy gowns and you couldn’t deny the worry that you had felt all night, hence there was another reason for you to have sweat your way through the fabric.

You exited the bed, surprised by the fact that Ivar was still beside you on the bed.

But you didn’t give it too much thought as you escaped the bed, bothered by the sweat almost as if it burned on your skin, and your stomach grumbled loudly as it almost seemed to bite the lower part of your body and, as you were moving to get yourself up, you froze, almost as if your body choked out all the breath in your lungs.

You should have understood, there and then, that something wasn’t quite right.

But you simply blamed your sickness on your frail emotional status, still hurt by Ivar’s aggression, in the previous night.

You managed to get up and circle the bed, before your stomach grunted annoyed but worst of all was the fact that the air was suddenly knocked away from your lungs as your limbs lost their strength, hence you needed to harshly grab on the small table next to the bed, as you felt acid bile raise from your throat.

And then you looked down and saw blood on your night gown.

Your monthly bleeding had paid you a visit.

With its usual timing.

You now understood the stomachache and worst of all the weakness in your limbs.

Had you known it, you wouldn’t have raised yourself from bed so swiftly.

Your monthly bleeding always made you weaker and it also made your stomach turn against you, as it pierced you from the inside painfully and gruesomely.

And it didn’t take long for the weakness in your limbs to spread to your mind, as your vision was shadowed, and your breath became shallow.

And right when your legs were buckling up underneath you, you felt two strong arms around you and suddenly a sound entered your ears, although you couldn’t quite piece where it was coming from and who uttered it.

At first it was your name and finally your ears registered it was male and it wasn’t difficult for you to realize that it was Ivar, who lightly pushed his nose up your neck in a way that made your overheated body thrill pleasurably, but there wasn’t any intention to pleasure you, as his worried tone huskily told you to breath.

‘Breath’ he commanded you and his body followed his order as it relaxed allowing your mouth to open to breath properly, as your vision came back “… breath (Y/N), yes like that, sweet one, like that”.

And like that he led you back to the bed, as your legs lightly brushed against his frozen crutch showing you that he hadn’t even put on the calibers.

And he lightly pushed you onto the sheets, pushing your back against the cold headboard which brought you extreme relief as your drenched back met it, letting out a languid moan, as you opened your eyes, ashamed of your freeness.

But Ivar, except the light blush on his cheeks, just kept his eyes focused on you.

And you remembered the stain on your nightgown you shot a quick look at the stain on the bed, and Ivar immediately followed your gaze, finding the blood, before a quick look to your nightgown revealed to him what you were thinking.

“Are you…?” he seemed shocked as anger filled his eyes “… hurt?”.

“It’s my monthly bleeding” you muttered out almost breathlessly due to your shame and tiredness “… it gets me like this sometimes, I need to bathe”:

Because, if the sweat didn’t make you already feel dirty, certainly the blood between your legs and on the bed did.

You had caused a mess.

And in your sudden confusion mixed with tiredness, you blushed at Ivar, muttering a small:

“Sorry”.

But he didn’t seem in the slightest fazed, simply caressing your face as he checked whether you were responsive or not.

“I have seen many battlefields and believe me this doesn’t faze me…” he replied honestly “… I’ll ask the guards to wake Turid and Solveig, do you feel like you won’t faint again?”.

“I don’t think I will, and in case this bed is soft” you promised him as you exchanged tired smirks and he did move to get the guards as you tried to adjust yourself to avoid a mess, lightly pushing up your nightgown, since the fabric of the nightgown was too heavy, for you to properly breath.

The light breeze of wind that came with the opened tent, made you moan lightly as you felt it gently against your naked skin, embarrassed of the exposed way your body was offering itself to Ivar’s sight.

Who, respectfully shed his eyes away, although he sat next to you.

Right when your stomach started hurting you again, your face twisting in a grimace.

“… does it hurt?” asked Ivar, his voice lightly roughed up by his morning breath and you lightly nodded your head at him, since you just couldn’t hide your uneasiness “…where?”.

“My stomach…” you mumbled, lightly “… I usually get a warm towel on it, it helps a bit”.

“Wait” Ivar lightly stuck out his tongue as he seemed to focus himself, before his hand positioned itself on your stomach, lightly pressing, trying to look at you for any sign of unease, but you moaned out pleasurably as the warmth of his hand numbed the pain “… is it good?”.

“Yes, thank you” you mumbled, closing your eyes at the comfortable situation, as Ivar mumbled lightly his even breath calming you, lightly lulling you “My mother used to do this too, whenever my stomach ached”.

As soon as your words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Even more as you realized how intimate and silly those words were.

It was something that only your sisters knew, since it was what your mother used to do also to them, calming them softly as she moved a hand onto your stomach to make their stomachaches pass faster.

Till now also Kathleen would sometimes do it to you, when you felt the horribly.

“Mine used to kiss the zones that hurt, and tell me that she had magic lips that made everything better” he told you, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, at the sweetness your moms had given you.

And at the gentle confession he had gifted you.

“If it doesn’t pass, I’ll tell Solveig to give you some of my herbs to help lessen the pain” he mumbled, and you just shook your head.

“It isn’t so bad, and it usually lasts only one day” you explained but Ivar didn’t look to convinced “… it is Eve’s burden, it shouldn’t be lessened by anything, it is a divine punishment…”.

“You aren’t Christian, anymore, little one” he mumbled, suddenly his lips lightly grazing your forehead, and you weren’t sure whether it was a nice gesture or if he was checking your temperature as your mother did “… you don’t have to tolerate pain”.

Why was it like that?

Because every time Ivar was sweet with you, it was either after he had screwed up everything or before he was going to.

And it left such a bad taste in your mouth.

The thought of not being able to trust him fully.

“I’ll think about it” you muttered your tone definitely more sober.

And you were almost thankful when Solveig announced her presence with a light cough, and you couldn’t help but blush lightly, being caught in such a private moment.

“… my princess?” she asked softly, as she ordered to Turid a change of clean clothes.

“She has her monthly bleeding” explained directly Ivar for you as you blushed even redder, lightly slapping his arm ad he turned to you confused.

“Don’t… that’s private” you mumbled, sending an apologizing look at Solveig, who simply smiled, too roughed up by age to be truly embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, princess, we have been through that many and many times” she made you feel comfortable as Ivar moved to help you up as if you were made of china.

And you couldn’t help but huff at the affectionate annoyance, as Solveig took you in her arms, although you felt much steadier in your walking, solely your stomach aching, as Solveig lightly blurted out various facts about being a woman and Turid moved to start the bed anew.

Ivar followed you with his gaze till you entered in the private bathroom, adverting his gaze as Solveig helped you out of your dress, for which you were thankful.

You heard him getting ready in the other room, meanwhile Turid came back with some linen to help you in, after you got out of the bathtub, Ivar not in sight, although you could hear his grunts as he put on the calibers.

You moved in another nightgown, this one shorter, leaving your arms uncovered, as it brought your figure to be hidden under the veiled fabric something for which you were thankful, since you had taken one look at the mirror and found your belly swollen.

But Ivar still looked taken aback as you emerged from the steam of the tub, your skin lightly rosy and heated, as Solveig still accompanied you, but at a larger distance, meanwhile Turid had finished with setting up the bed, again clean and Ivar sat at a chair near the entrance.

He looked somewhat impatient.

And you immediately reasoned it was probably because he was late to where he should be.

“You can go, I won’t faint, I swear”.

“Don’t” his tone was dashingly sarcastic “My guards won’t trust it, anymore”.

“I did it only one time!” you protested looking at the sky, as he moved to limp lightly to your bed, to salute you more warmly and although you should have been pissed, you welcomed again his kiss on your cheek, before he prompted the two thralls to follow every order of yours.

‘… and starts the herbs’ he muttered tightly at Solveig, who nodded, meanwhile your glance became lightly sour.

And then he exited the tent, leaving you with your stomachache, a fretting Solveig and a comforting Turid, who was honestly the only person you wanted to be around, lately.

But your quiet was short-lived since your flock of handmaidens entered your tent, all probably alerted by Turid, as they fretted around nervously, chit-chatting as you sent a pleading look at Solveig, but she simply smiled at you and muttered ‘the perks of being a princess’.

Angelika fell down next to you on the bed.

“You should seriously consider that God hates you” she mumbled, as she closed her eyes, evidently enjoying the sensation of the fluffy mattress, where you invited the other girl to rest, comfortably “… one day you escape a poisoning attempt, and the next… you get your period”.

“God doesn’t give us anything that we can’t tolerate” you replied, harshly as you turned away, more than happy to adjust yourself to face a smirking Lia.

“Do you talk to your heathen husband with that tongue?” she contrasted you, but not with the usual bite, and you couldn’t help but feel like she was teasing you like Kathleen would do, and it brought a smile to your face.

“… I talk to my husband how I want” you replied sharply, and all the handmaiden muttered a tight ‘oh’ as they moved closer to you, curious.

“She hit him on the arm, this morning” muttered Solveig in a tight Norse that only Angelika and Caryn understood, and the former giggled lightly, sending you an amazing look, meanwhile the latter’s lips simply opened in a smirk.

Soon a few of your handmaidens went away, reassured you wouldn’t bleed out, as Angelika followed them for their daily chores, giggling with a few as Lia sent you a confused look, but you simply ordered her.

“Don’t leave her behind”.

Caryn still stayed and you knew why.

Although the haze of the stomachache still butchered your mind, you kept it tight and sharp as she came closer, almost as if she was checking on you.

But she had more to confess.

“I didn’t tell him about the letters I sent to the bishop” she mumbled through her teeth, and you tried your best to wield your face in a calm one, surprised by the fact that she hadn’t betrayed you so easily.

“There isn’t anything scandalous in my letters to bishop Heahmund” you replied with the same secretive tone “… they are for my sisters”.

And then, coded inside there were some news in Latin.

“I know, my lady” she spoke softly, but you couldn’t help but be glad of her admission.

Her last show of loyalty.

“What will you do now that you are free?” you asked gently, wanting to shift away the attention from your original theme of conversation, since the burn of the betrayal was still burning “… will you return to England? I’ll ask Hvitserk to accompany you…”.

“I have decided to stay with you” her affirmation was convinced and sincere, as if it was an obvious decision “… at least till you’ll go back to Kattegat”.

“You are free, Caryn and you don’t owe me anything” you tried to explain to her.

As much as you felt hurt by her betrayal, you couldn’t deny that you’d have done the same.

You were doing the same.

It was simply a game of survival.

And everyone didn’t play fair.

Even more your husband.

Caryn seemed taken aback by your words and lowered her head.

“Yet, I’ll stay” she promised “… and I’ll try to make up for what I destroyed”.

“You don’t have any make up to do” you explained, as you lightly pushed yourself to sit more properly “:.. this isn’t… the Vikings have taken so much from you, and you can’t blame yourself for wanting a shot at freedom, I don’t blame you”.

“But you don’t trust me” she uttered, as if that saying hurt her.

“Sadly, I can’t, not right now”.

After everything that had happened, you just couldn’t.

And you weren’t sure you would ever.

“I understand that” she mumbled lowering her head and moving up as she also exited, finally leaving you with Turid, who lightly moved around the room adjusting everything out his place, and eventually you took pity on the poor girl.

“Turid, won’t you make me company?” you mumbled, patting lightly the seat next to you and although she squealed what sounded like a tight ‘no no’, but you didn’t let her much choice “… don’t make me order you to sit down, before you give me an headache”.

And the poor thrall nodded, siting down at the end of the bed, as you dug out a book from your pillow, Cicero, ‘Pro Archia’.

You had thought it’d be fitting.

Hadn’t Cicero just squandered his talent over a case he had already won.

But it was familiar to you, in a way that almost hugged you to comfort, as you waited for Solveig to come back with the herbs.

It wasn’t the pain you were fearful, but of what the pain did to your mind, keeping it from being sharp and lucid when it should have been at its best.

God would forgive you.

Not that it mattered much to you, anyway.

As Angelika had said, you weren’t much beloved by Him either way.

And you were enjoying your beloved calmness, when your tent was opened again.

You thought it was Solveig, probably rushing in, since all the older handmaidens were busy with chores.

Sadly, it was Halfdan.

Turid immediately got up, and you expected her to move around the tent again, but instead, she stood her ground, looking up and down Halfdan, as she physically shielded you with her tiny body.

But Haldan looked definitely intimidated.

“I just…”.

The look in the girl’s eyes that you could see reflected in the mirror at the entrance spoke of steely nights and threats.

“…. I need to talk with the princess” and he made to move forward, but Turid stopped him, moving to block his road and hadn’t you been extremely angry at him, almost scared, you would have gladly laughed, at the funny scene.

But again, you spared the poor girl.

“Turid, get Hvitserk” because you wouldn’t have a conversation with him without one of the brothers being outside “… and you, Halfdan, will wait outside, meanwhile I get changed”.

And you sent him a look that told him to obey your order.

And he exited, almost defeated, the room, meanwhile Solveig entered it with the herbs, making you drink the smelly brew, which didn’t taste better and you thought that certainly if it wouldn’t have made you feel better, you would have retched your own pain.

Solveig then pushed you in a sober dark green silky dress, which was loose on your front, falling in a linear gown, not very flattering but you couldn’t just greet Halfdan in a nightgown.

Actually, if it had been to you, you wouldn’t have greeted him.

Hvitserk appeared on the threshold a bit later, as he regarded Halfdan with a hasty look right when Solveig finished pushing your hair up with an emerald pin, as a few strands of hair fell down your neck, graciously.

“Tell me what you have come here to talk and then leave” you mumbled regarding him, sat onto your bed, although you tried to keep your more upright position, almost as if you were on a throne.

Your elegant emerald necklace, you were wearing, catching the light coming from the open tent flap, so the guards would barge immediately in if Halfdan tried anything, although Hvitserk already had a hand on his sword looked definitely intimidating.

“I am sorry it had to go that way”.

“Are you truly sorry or are you sorry just because you got discovered?” you muttered, spitting those words as if they were poisoned.

“… it wasn’t meant to get that way” he mumbled darkly, and Hvitserk raised himself so suddenly that you were also caught by surprise as he moved to push his chest against Halfdan, effectively getting the man to back off.

“Oh, it was meant to get you on the throne, wasn’t it” he commented tightly, as he faced tightly and harshly the man “… but you underestimated us, son of a bitch”.

“My brother did” he commented, before he shot you a light look “I never did”.

“Then why did you do it?” you asked him, your voice tight, as you were a bit affected by the suddenness of Hvitserk’s actions and Halfdan’s words.

“I told my brother not to do it, not to go against you, that he wouldn’t have won…” he spoke, almost like a broken record “… but he didn’t listen”.

“And yet you supported him” spat out Hvitserk, almost offended for you.

“He is my brother”.

And you couldn’t deny that you would have done the same thing.

Your expression of annoyance softened, as you got up from the bed, the dress falling onto your legs and pooling on the floor, as it followed you.

You moved closer to him, under the attentive eyes of Hvitserk.

“You chose your loyalty Halfdan” you mumbled tightly “… I hope that the time away will help you see that we can choose our own path, instead of following other’s”.

And you turned, because it just hurt you.

To think that you, deep down, were exactly like him: following the path somebody had laid out for you and trying to protect your older sister. 

You heard Hvitserk led him out, although Halfdan insisted you weren’t finished but you simply mumbled ‘have a safe travel’, and moved again onto the bed, facing away from everything as you looked at the reflection of your hair on the pillow, lightly catching the rays of sun that pierced through the tent.

“… he isn’t going to die” mumbled Hvitserk, almost as if he thought that you were feeling sad because you felt guilty “… he’ll have his fun travelling the Mediterranean with Bjorn”.

“And what about Harald?”.

You were honestly relived you wouldn’t have to deal with the arrogant king, because he honestly didn’t seem trustworthy in the slightest, and you didn’t want any more plotting, seeing the mess it had thrown you in.

But you were almost grateful to the king for having made you see who you could trust and who you couldn’t.

“He’ll go back to his lands” he explained as he sat down on the end of the bed, raising lightly his bright eyes to meet yours, as you brought your legs close to your chest, to help ease the pain you were feeling in your stomach.

The herbs wouldn’t be working at least for half an hour after consumption, had explained to you Solveig, but you just hoped they’d rush in, since the pain wasn’t making you focus.

“… I am glad to hear that” you uttered with a grimace and Hvitserk lowered his head, thinking that it was for him.

“I know that… you are pissed with him because I sided with Ivar…”.

“I could never be pissed with you for that” you stopped him, as you searched his eyes “I have two sisters and I’ll always side with them, no matter what”.

The discourse seemed to have made him gain something, as life was brought back in his eyes, almost as a dog who had received a praise.

“:.. but I am annoyed that you went behind my back, because I thought we were…” ‘friends’ but it was more.

He had acted with you almost as an older brother for which you were honestly thankful, but it pained you more to know that he had chosen his side.

And it wasn’t yours.

You couldn’t simply trust him again.

But you also couldn’t push him away.

“… but if you get me some sweets from the kitchens, my annoyance with you will certainly grow weaker”.

And you hadn’t seen a man move faster, as Hvitserk dashed to you, quickly planting a small kiss on your forehead, mumbling something about ‘feeling blessed’, before disappearing again.

A few minutes he was back again with so many sweets that you couldn’t help but wonder whether Vikings simply didn’t like sweets or he had stolen all of them before the others could lay an hand on them, but apparently Hvitserk has a surprise for you.

“Apparently, my dear brother has gotten them made, because he knows that you like them” and he sent you a devious smirk, as you stole the sweet in his hands to stuff your mouth with it, glad that your stomach had started to return normal.

But the herbs had left you hungry.

And sleepy.

“… oh, did he?” you mumbled, as you lightly licked the cream off one of the sweets you had been presented with.

“He did” muttered Hvitserk with a conspiring tone, as he raised an eyebrow “I’ll let you in a secret”.

“Oh, do indulge me” you mumbled, pursuing your lips in a small smile.

“I do think that he likes you”.

You erupted in laughter, loud enough to make a guard’s face appear from the behind the tent flap because he thought you were choking on something, as Hvitserk excused your antics, mumbling to him that you were alright.

“I do think that I know that, he has married me, after all” you replied, as soon as your breath came back, lightly moving your fingers to show him your ring.

“Yeah, but…” Hvitserk seemed so focused that another laughter found its way from your mouth “… but Ivar wasn’t ever interested in females, he had… a bad experience… and then never approached them”.

“A bad experience?” you asked, but Hvitserk ignored you, so you just shoved down that knowledge, listening close to Hvitserk’s incoherent mumbles.

“… and then suddenly he said that he’d marry this English princess, that she was beautiful and smart, and…”.

“Wait” you stopped him, as your eyes met “… he said this before he got to know me, how?”.

“That’s what I asked myself!” retorted Hvitserk “… because… English women are stuck up and annoying… no offense obviously”.

“I’ll need more sweets for that” you retorted, as you grabbed all the sweets that Hvitserk had on his part, gaining a sad puppy look, but you didn’t back down from your decision.

“… and we tried to get him to back off, but he was simply too convinced…” he breathed out, before a small smile appeared on his face “… what I am trying to say is that… my brother likes you, like he does, he isn’t the best at showing it…”:

“He arrested me for attempted poisoning when he knew I wasn’t guilty”.

“… yeah, he doesn’t know how to express emotions, but he is attentive and I know that you have every right to be pissed at him… it’s better him than me… but… he cares for you”.

Your cheeks blushed although you tried to hold yourself upright and to keep up some kind of royal look, as you devoured another sweet, hoping it’d also sweeten the perception you had of Ivar.

The way he had grabbed you so strongly the previous night, and yet the sweet way he had taken care of you this morning….

Why couldn’t he be seriously the monster of the fairy tales you had heard so much about?

It would have made everything easier.

Included spilling his secrets to Heahmund and hating him.

“… I’ll keep that in mind”.

“And I am totally not saying that because my brother is cranky when you are angry with him” he blurted out, sending you a pleading look “… that time you walked in him meanwhile he was plotting, he screamed for ten minutes at the guards and then I had to tell him that the way to a woman’s heart is through the stomach… quite literally”.

“You…?” you erupted in a laughter, imagining Ivar doing what Hvitserk had told you, as you rolled down the bed, in a very unladylike manner “… are you serious?”.

“I swear it on my honor”.

“There isn’t much to swear on, then” you teased him, as he sent you a light awful look “… I am joking… maybe”.

“The first day you walked in the camping I swore that you wouldn’t have lasted a day, you were too sweet…” he mumbled tightly “… I apparently lost some money with that fucker of Bjorn, because it turns out you are worse than I thought”.

“Didn’t you enjoy the poison ivy in your bed?” you retorted, feeling slightly guilty for it.

“Was it you?!” he exclaimed, faking a betrayed look on his face, as you laughed soundly “I thought it was a prank from … Ivar… Gosh, you two are seriously made for the other”.

“Next time you’ll cross me, sweets won’t save you” you muttered, pushing another sweet in your mouth, meanwhile Hvitserk just looked at you as a beaten puppy “… don’t they call Ivar, ruthless? Well I’ll be that too”.

“I don’t know why I am even surprised” he muttered, sending you a serious look “… you English women are full of surprises”.

You just sent him an enigmatic kiss.

You ate the morning away and slept the afternoon, guarded by your handmaidens that took turns to entertain you, and tell you what had been happening meanwhile you were left in your tent.

And you sadly realized your relationship with the Vikings was even more strained.

But you were proud to hear both Lia and Arabella asking you whether they could join you on your training, as Eleanor hid under the brunette, who had a loose arm around here, almost as if it was second nature to them.

‘Obviously, we’d join it when we are not essential to the chores in the camp’ stumbled through words Lia, definitely at unease.

You had simply shaken your head, telling them that they could train whenever they wanted.

‘… at the condition that you won’t laugh when you see me training’ you made them swear as they already giggled, before they threw themselves in a gossiping moment, mumbling about the sudden change in Angelika.

“I kid you not, but she asked me if she could be helpful with anything!” almost screeched Eleanor, here pretty eyes, shining almost dripping honey as naivety and surprise took them.

“She is currently folding some of your underwear, my lady” grinned Lia “… but I am not sure if you’ll have any underwear by the end of it”.

“Why?” you asked lightly curious “… she can’t do that much damage simply folding laundry”.

And they all sent you a look that meant ‘you shall see’.

Angelika did, in fact, come to you with your folded clothes, a bit scrunched up and wrinkly but you were honestly surprised that the girl had chosen to collaborate with the others, so you were more than happy to also gossip a bit with her, till your lids became too heavy for a talking spar.

“… did your husband tire you out, last night” she suggested maliciously, making you open your eyes to roll them at her antics.

“Yes, but not in the way you are thinking” you pursued your lips, as you sunk your teeth in them.

“Don’t bite your lips or you’ll make them break” lightly reprimanded you Angelika “… make him bite his lips, give him a bit of hell of his own”.

“I just wasn’t… I am not the type” because every time you had tried to confront Ivar it didn’t… it never worked well for you “… it is hard for me to use harsh words and…”.

“You don’t have to” mumbled Angelika with a sincere look “… there is a kindness to you that is definitely more effective than any shouting”.

You couldn’t help but be moved by her gentle words.

As she left you, you slept again a bit, eventually settling up to play with the cube that Floki had gifted you on your wedding.

From what you had gathered, each face of the cube was divided in smaller cubes that were signed with a different rune, meaning for it to form some kind of phrase, as you matched the smaller cubes, but whenever you found some meaning to the toy, the next movement would break away your phrase.

It was almost more frustrating that talking with Ivar.

Who walked in as you continued on trying new movements, as the wooden cubes clicked against each other, the sole noise in the room since Ivar kept himself silent, staring at you from the threshold, till you raised lightly your head.

He looked like he had been caught admiring you, and Hvitserk’s words came back to you.

He lightly bowed his head, muttering lightly an ‘hello’, as you adjusted yourself in bed, as he came closer, hiding something behind his back.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he came to sit up on a chair next to the bed, as you exited the bed to come helping him with his calibers.

“Better” you mumbled softly “… I have taken the herbs, but the second day isn’t as bad as the first”.

And as you were moving to lower yourself, Ivar stopped you, gently grabbing your hand, his roughness surprising but you wheeled your face to keep straight as you were surprised by such an intimate gesture.

“Can we talk?” he honestly seemed almost to expect you to reject him again, like the previous night, as if you held some power over him.

“I do think that we need it” you mumbled, in answer, as you moved a chair to sit in front of him and he set up what he was hiding behind his back on the table between you.

And you recognized immediately the shape: a crown.

It was a circlet of gold with rubies on it, but they were shaped to form small roses as the clearness of the crystal caught the light of the candles intensely, shining of bright red, meanwhile the golden almost became white.

It was a beautiful creation.

“It’s yours” he muttered tightly between his teeth, without raising his eyes from your joined hands, as you sent him a surprised glance, before you again reigned your face to keep it clean from any emotion.

“I won’t simply forget the humiliation you have put me through because of a nice jewel”.

Your father always did the same with your mother.

And not because he felt bad for what he had done to her, but because jewels would cover bruises.

“It isn’t a simple nice jewel” he chewed on his words, almost as if he was still thinking before he started speaking “… it is… an oath to you”.

“What… what do you mean?” you asked, sending him a confused look.

“You say that my words are fickle…” the taste of those words brought a sour taste on his mouth, but he still said them “… so I thought that this could hold much more to you”.

“I am not following you…”.

And he almost scared you with the fastness he showed as he reached out for the crown, gripping it, till the ruby roses dug in his skin and blood seeped through it, staining the crown as you realized what he meant.

He was swearing to you.

And although it wasn’t your custom, you couldn’t help but feel the holiness of this.

You bit your lips unsure whether to stop him or let him continue that blasphemy.

“… I swear, princess (Y/N), that my plot against you yesterday will be the last act against you” he swore, as he pushed himself on his knees, although you were aware it was painful.

A part of you wanted to take pity on him.

But another part, the one that won, kept on looking at him, to see how far he’d push himself for you

“… my words might have been… untruthful” he didn’t seem convinced about it, but an harsh look from you gave him all the conviction he needed “I mean no harm to you and I swear this upon this crown, that might for ever remind us of this, that it is the last time that I don’t speak the truth to you, that I don’t respect you”.

And you couldn’t help but believe him.

Although you shouldn’t have.

And you didn’t let yourself go so easily.

“This isn’t enough” because as much as he had sworn to you never to cross you, he had some sides that you had just caught glimpse of.

And you had to understand whether the true Ivar was the sweet one that’d cherish you at your lowest or the ruthless one everybody knew.

“Then let me know what I have to do, and I’ll do it” he swore, loudly, as his hand joined yours, and his eyes raised to you.

You weren’t feeling any pressure at all, for sure…

And then the words slipped out of your mouth, on their own.

Maybe because it had been something that you had wanted to do, since after your first ‘night together’.

“Spend a day with me” you told him, softly, as your hand reciprocated the grip on yours and your eyes shine fully “… let me know you, as the man you are when you aren’t with others”.

‘And please don’t reveal yourself to be the monster of every English story’.

And everything in him seemed to come to life, as he immediately proceeded to kiss the back your hand, bringing it to his lips, with a gratefulness that made you blush and push away your hand from him, almost burned.

The place his lips had touched did indeed burn, as you brushed away the evidence of it, as if it had left a burn on it, but Ivar looked quite satisfied as he moved to crawl against in the chair.

“You are truly a woman of mercy, princess (Y/N)” he muttered, as he shot you a soft look, although his eyes sparkled of malice and you shot him an annoyed glance, more to hide your embarrassment than actually for anything else.

“… you aren’t forgiven… yet” you bit, your lips, eyeing him, your eyes strangely focusing on the handsome cut of his jaw, as it moved to form a smirk, and you were impressed by the strength in his neck, as it moved to send you a knowing look, as if to say he knew you weren’t annoyed with him, anymore.

And you intensified your haughty glance.

But nobody would have believed it.

“Aren’t you Christians supposed to be creature of mercy?” he mumbled, as he kept on that impenitent look.

“Not a Christian anymore, husband” you retorted, willing yourself to keep your answer short not to give him any satisfaction “… I don’t think I ever was, I loved too much the myths to believe in anything that wasn’t them”.

Something like interest appeared in Ivar’s face, but you raised from the chair, with every intention of getting yourself in bed, since, although the pain was slowly leaving, it certainly hadn’t been an easy day for you.

“Before you go to sleep… just try it on for me” he asked of you, no expectation in his voice, as he held out the crown for you, cleaning it from the blood against his own tunic, for which you reprimanded him, because ‘Solveig had already enough to wash’.

But you indulged him.

Even more because that piece was of an intricate beauty

And you hadn’t gotten many gifts.

Your father hadn’t certainly made you lack anything, except affection, but every gift seemed like a debt you owned to him.

Whereas this one… was precious.

And not solely because of the materials, but Ivar’s oath on it.

You adjusted it on top of your hair, lightly checking you out in your nightgown as you brushed back your hair before you threaded it among them, finding it quite fitting.

And you did allow yourself a moment of vanity.

Although you were in a comfortable nightgown, nothing too fancy, the crown nobilitated the entire assemble and as it caught the light of the candle, reflecting it with reddish sparkles.

And then you turned to a smiling Ivar.

He looked like you were the most perfect creature in the world.

And you blushed, your cheeks almost as red as the rubies of your crown.

“… it is beautiful” you muttered, diverting the look from him, almost ashamed and thinking that you weren’t worthy of it “… I look like a princess”.

“No” he replied, as his face took an almost ecstatic look “… you look like a queen”.

* * *

You woke up with a light tampering against your shoulder, as Ivar gently caressed your naked shoulder, since the nightgown’s arm straps had lowered lightly, revealing some heated skin.

At first you moved away, humming for more sleep.

But Ivar’s laughter followed his gesture, as he lightly brought your hair away from your face.

And you leaned in his hand, gently welcoming the warmth and roughness of those familiar hand, as you slowly brought yourself out of the sleep mist.

And as you turned to face properly Ivar, you blushed lightly at the nearness you had, and you scooted lightly away, a dash of blush on your face, but he smirked tightly at you, admiring your form.

“Good morning” he mumbled softly, as you hummed a response, trying to make your mind function under the watchful gaze of those pool of skies, definitely your favorite color.

He was blessed beyond measure with looks.

And he looked so sinful, all relaxed and teasing.

Excited almost by the way his eyes were full-blown, his long hair out of the braids, making you want to push a hand through them, to feel their texture since they seemed quite silky and full of volume.

And then those lips…

… Gosh, you spent all too much time thinking about them.

“… still want to pass the day with me?” he asked you jokingly, as he raised an eyebrow, but his eyes hid more.

He was almost scared for you to back out.

“Why would I not want to pass time together with my beloved?” your tone was sickly sweet, and now you were the one who was teasing him, as your hand searched for his, lightly gripping it as you brought his attention to you.

“Because you look quite sleepy” he replied tightly, as his hand gripped yours and before you knew he had brought you in a loose hug, and the part of you, who was sleepy, craved his warmth, as you cradled closer to him, before flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind.

You couldn’t surrender simply because Ivar used his devilish charm against you.

And you had enough.

“No, absolutely, I am awake!” you replied tightly as you moved away, exiting the warmth of your bed, rushing to the bathroom “… get yourself ready, I wouldn’t want to lose a single hour without you”.

“You are mean” he complained with a wicked look.

“You married me” you retorted, as you got yourself in bathroom, getting ready to change your linens, adjusting your hair, meanwhile your heard Ivar rummaging around, getting ready.

You changed quite quickly and without the help of your handmaidens, since the assemble you had chosen was simple, because if you had to spend the morning with Ivar you couldn’t have anything that would slow down.

Hence your beloved pants were on, alongside a light shirt covered with a woolen jacket.

You pushed your hair up, bringing two sides of it to join on your back of the hair with a golden pin, with shiny pearls on it, in order to bring the hair away from your face, in a less pompous look.

As you exited the bathroom, yawning lightly, you caught Ivar, doing his braid on his bed, although he seemed highly at unease and you set yourself down, beside him, gently slapping away his hands, and pushing them in his hands.

You almost wanted to moan at the softness of those tresses, surprised they were clean and silky, since you never saw him bathe, although you thought he either did when you were outside or early in the morning when you slept.

“… where did you learn to braid?” he asked, as you calmly moved the tresses between themselves, trying to get yourself used to the shorter hair.

“I have sisters…” you mumbled lightly “… an older one who couldn’t keep her hairstyle for more than a few hours and a younger one, who…”.

Your voice broke as you found yourself admitting that you had taken in the role of your mother when your sister Abigail was younger and she would escape the handmaiden’s hands because they weren’t as nice as yours-

You’d make a small Abigail sit down on your lap and then proceed to make her talk so she wouldn’t protest against you braiding her hair.

“Is it better to have sisters?” he asked, almost curious, at your tone.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t have anything to compare it with” you raised an eyebrow lightly “Is it better to have brothers?”.

Ivar’s eyes became suddenly dark, a shadow appearing in them, as you moved to adjust yourself a bit further away from him, scared of what would be going on.

But then he just shook his head.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t have anything to compare it with”.

“Don’t steal my words” you reprimanded him, as you felt the atmosphere growing lighter, before he pushed himself up to his feet, having slipped in the calibers, probably helped by the guards, as you did the same “… what do you have planned for today?”.

“First a trip to the kitchen and then…” his eyes shone of true interest “… then I want to show you a place”.

You nodded following him, as you saluted all the handmaidens, wishing them ‘good morning’.

“I’ll spend the morning with prince Ivar, so you have the day off” you mumbled, before your gaze set up on both Lia and Arabella “… I asked Hvitserk to pass here later so that he could bring you to Nanna, send her my regards”.

“We will” commented softly Lia, meanwhile Arabella’s eyes just shone.

And you proceeded for a brief stop to the main kitchen, glad of your common attire, which wouldn’t attract many gazes, although Hvitserk recognized you, but simply sent you a smirk as he saw Ivar emerge from the kitchen with a basket.

‘Bring the girls to Nanna’ you remembered him, as you passed him, Ivar laughing at your commanding tone.

“My brother isn’t used to women ordering him around” he justified it as you both moved to the stables, to get Bukefalos and his chariot, the white horse, immediately saluting you excitedly, enough to scare the poor stable boy.

Not as much as Ivar did still.

“Neither are you” you teased him, with a light wink, moving to calm down the animal, meanwhile his shocked eyes followed you and you simply focused every inch of attention onto the horse.

Spying with your side-eye Ivar.

You had allowed him another chance not simply to stay on his good side, but also for the fact that you had to see a side of Ivar that was utterly him.

You were justifying your choice with the fact that you needed it to report to Heahmund.

Who except seeing him in the hall, he hadn’t checked on you, since you had gotten accused of poisoning, and although you recognized it was a smart move to let any suspicious thoughts fall…

… it just made you wonder if he was truly here to protect you and serve his country and not keep you from running away.

And steal your thoughts.

“Get my chariot ready” you heard Ivar utter to the stable boy, effectively leaving you alone.

And a part of you feared he had done it to teach you a lesson.

Since he had touched you so harshly two nights ago, flashes of him and your father alternated in your mind.

Had it been your father, he’d have punished you privately.

But Ivar simply came closer to you, gently proceeding to caress the horse, as you lowered your trembling hands, hiding them in the pockets of your pants.

“… what kind of name is Bukefalos?” he asked softly, probably having perceived your uneasiness.

“Alexander the Great’s horse was named Bukefalos” you explained, chasing away his eyes with yours, as you stared at the dirty floor “… he was a restless horse, aggressive with anyone but Alexander, who had learnt he feared his shadow”.

You felt Ivar’s eyes on you, but you refused to meet his gaze, as you exited the stables feeling the stable boy entering inside again, and you were more than glad to let him work alone, glad to bash under the rays of sun that day you had been blessed with.

Ivar joined you, after he had instructed the stable boy, his voice now calmer than the one he had used before.

“… he is quite untamed” he mumbled as he joined you “… Buke… whatever was that mythic stallion name… we have a similar one…”.

“Sleipnir” you commented, before he could finish the phrase, the blush on your cheeks following the words you proceeded to say “… bore by Loki, who joined himself with the horse Svaðilfœri”.

“You certainly do like mythology” he mumbled, laughing lightly, as it shattered a bit the tension.

“It is just interesting… to see the links between peoples” you replied “… these stories were the foundation of society and their rules, and I just…”.

“It gives a magic that life doesn’t have, doesn’t it?”.

You felt like Ivar spoke the words you had never found, and nodded eagerly, as you finally met his eyes, finding them looking at you with admiration and… tenderness.

Your small talk was interrupted by the stable boy to tell Ivar his chariot was ready, and although you had heard quite the impressive talk about his war chariot, it didn’t seem so… imposing and scary, now

Ivar pushed himself on it, before he extended an hand to help you, Bukefalos neighing his impatience at your uncertainty, since you couldn’t help but feel like the thing seemed pretty ‘dangerous’, it hadn’t anything that resembled your English chariots.

And Ivar immediately saw through you.

“I won’t make you fall off” he joked lightly, as you bit your lips, eventually moving the first steps to raise yourself onto it.

“I’ll hold you onto that promise” you mumbled, as you nervously moved to adjust yourself, so that you were right in front of the chariot, and Ivar behind you, keeping you steady between his arms, with extreme expertise.

His body pressed against you in a way that would have been highly improper, even more if you were husband and wife, but Ivar’s body held this kind of steadiness and strength that made you relax lightly, as you thought about how much Kathleen would have liked this.

She would pretend to ride old carpets as if they were her own personal horses or try to run down the stairs onto a kitchen tray.

“I swear it on your crown” he mumbled, before he pushed Bukefalos to move.

And you had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

It wasn’t bad in the slightest, although your legs trembled as you finally arrived in the secluded area Ivar had brought you to.

But it had felt good.

You loved riding horses, but you couldn’t help but feel like in this case you were living more in the moment.

You were free.

“Was it that terrible?” joked Ivar as he helped you get down, meanwhile you just giggled.

“It was beautiful, Gosh, it just felt so damn…”.

“… like you were truly alive?” taunted you your husband, as he gently pushed his arms around your waist, and you should have jumped, but you just stayed there for a moment, observing the curious boy that was looking at you behind his eyelashes.

Clear blue eyes tinted with amusement, whether for your red-tinted cheeks or for your messy hair.

Or simply because you had smiled at him.

“Yeah, when Floki made it for me I honestly felt like I was reborn” he mumbled, as you finally jumped down, still in his arms, bound strongly around your waist, almost as if he didn’t want to let you go.

You almost wished he didn’t.

The comfort of his body against yours, almost making you dizzy.

“… it was my chance to run”.

You nodded, although you knew that you wouldn’t have been able to understand, and let Ivar adjust the chariot and Bukefalos, as you explored where he had bought you.

A part of you had known that it might not have been the best idea to go with him to a secluded area, even more with things between you two being unresolved.

But you were trying to give him a chance to make you trust him again.

And you had Bukefalos on your own.

The place where he had brought you was a small clearing in the middle of the woods, lightly blessed with a mirror of sunlight all for itself, in an almost idyllic picture that made you utter a soft whimper of happiness as the tips of grass graces against your hand as you touched it.

It was a beautiful situation.

Because you weren’t a princess anymore, and neither a wife.

You were simply one with the nature.

“I knew you would have liked it” commented Ivar.

And you couldn’t help but wonder why such a tormented and wary person found his calmness in this piece of heaven.

And Ivar read your question in your eyes.

“It isn’t… common for me, I know, but…” he bit his lips as if he wanted to hold the truth inside of them “… I spent a lot of time alone as a child… and if I didn’t… sometimes the… world would be too loud, so I found myself my own small… place where I could be alone”.

It was a true confession and you couldn’t help but feel the rawness of his emotions.

And you believed him.

“… and I know… that you also feel like that. sometimes” he mumbled, proving what Hvisterk had told you.

He had been attentive about you.

“So, I thought you might need this” he muttered, as the tone of his voice moved into ramblings, as if he wasn’t sure of it “… so that you can come…”.

“Thank you” the words escaped your mouth, before he could finish with the embarrassed answer, and before you knew it, you gently kissed one of his cheeks, as he sat down beside you “… this is beautiful”.

“Ahh you are welcome” he couldn’t help but choke on the words as if they were burning on his tongue, more than happy to change the subject as your hands lightly joined themselves on the grass “… and what about Alexander The Great? Was he… great?”.

“He conquered all the known world during the ancient Greek times and created a legacy that reached from West to East” you explained softly “... he was indeed great”.

Ivar’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“He was known as one of the biggest conquerors, in the antiquity” you went on spurred by Ivar’s interest “… it was a shame that…”.

“What was a shame?” pleaded you to go on Ivar.

“His entire legacy broke after his death” you continued “… his child barely survived enough to be crowned king and killed, meanwhile the others… they fought till Alexander’s great empire was broken apart”.

Ivar’s eyes now seemed to become frozen as he fell against the soft grass.

“It is what is happening with my father’s legacy”.

Again, silence fell, and you thought about prodding lightly the sleeping beast.

“… I am sorry about that” you mumbled, as you mimicked his position, turning to him, as he looked at the sky.

“That’s what always happen when a throne is left without an heir” he mumbled, as he continued to look up, before he turned to you lightly “… but these aren’t relaxing talks, aren’t they?”.

You just shot him a light look, as if to agree, and he brought himself up, moving to the basket of baked goodies, which were quite the distraction from the tougher thoughts as you found Ivar asking you a few questions, genuine interest in his eyes.

You couldn’t deny that it felt nice, and Ivar was smart and funny, enough to make you laugh out loud as he told you everything about the time that Hvitserk had stolen all the bread he could find just to find it devoured by birds.

And you told him all about the time that you and Kathleen once almost lost yourselves in the castle, since you had reached rooms you had never visited, just to be convinced of being followed by ghosts when you heard some strange noises.

Just to discover they were rats.

Something that had scared Kathleen much more than any ghost.

In the end with bellies full of laughter and food you both fall down onto the grass, as you looked up at sky, suddenly feeling Ivar’s eyes onto you, as they followed you, an unbelieving shade in them, as he retreated them and before you even knew it, your hand had darted out to his, gently tracing the different rougher spots inside of it.

The long fingers, and the uncured nails.

And everything seemed as natural as breathing to you.

And then your hand gently raised onto his arm, over the fabric of his tunic, and he let you, amusement shining in his eyes, as you moved up till you reached his shoulder, and then where his neck met his neck, making him giggle at the sensitive skin there.

You giggled almost in response, discovering that your Viking was ticklish, and then your hand moved down onto his chest, the strength of his muscles rumbling under your hands, as he raised onto his elbows, sending you a malicious look.

“Aren’t you curious, little princess?” but his eyes were adoringly, till something murky filled them, as your hand reached right onto his lower torso, and he gently grabbed with his, but with enough strength to make you understand that was all you’d have today.

And you couldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you curious about me too, husband?” your voice was breathless.

That was what Ivar’s body had rendered you, and those smartly wicked eyes…

“I wouldn’t want to scandalize you, little Christian” he retorted, showing you his tongue as you sent him an annoyed look.

“I am not Christian, how many times do I have to tell you?”.

“Then you won’t mind me…” and his hand moved onto your legs, raising itself up, till he found your thigh and he gripped it, making you squeal, but not out of uneasiness, as your cheeks became red.

You had never been treated like this.

Ivar’s touches held a tenderness tinted with a directness that had never been used with you, as his eyes asked for your consent.

“I don’t mind it” you teased him, pointing out each word, as an another hand, gently moved onto your own hand, meanwhile the other onto your thigh kept itself steady, but it still brought your mouth to open in a breathy mumble.

And he did the same as you had done with him, tracing the softness of your cured hands, then moving onto your lithe arms, nothing compared to his, as he graced just the tip of it against your light tunic, in a way that felt damnably ticklish.

He had come closer and before you knew it, he was so so close to you that you could almost taste the mead on his breath, as he opened his mouth to speak to you.

“You are beautiful”.

It wasn’t a compliment.

It was promise.

And then his warmth abandoned you, completely as he moved to his side, a sudden insecurity appearing in his eyes, and your body searching his warmth moved closer as an awkward silence fell on you, both.

You felt ashamed of wanting to feel his touch on every part of your body.

But it had felt oh so pleasurably.

“Ivar” you tried to call out to him “… don’t shut me out”.

Because it had all been perfect and then his insecurities had gotten in the way.

Another piece to the puzzle that Ivar was.

He was definitely reigned in by insecurities.

And then he turned to you, finally, and you came closer to him.

“… you made me feel so well, today” you admitted “… I haven’t laughed and felt so free, in so long”.

And it was the truth, even with Kathleen and Abigail there were certain parts of you that you wouldn’t be able to show, whether to protect them or simply because they were so utterly hidden.

But with Ivar…

… it felt good to ramble stupid facts you knew and see his eyes light up, as if he thought you were the smartest person ever.

And you had never been called ‘beautiful’.

But his words were utterly honest.

And so were yours.

“You are welcome” he seemed a big cat as he hissed out the words, but no aggression and you dared a step further, gently embracing him as he became still against you before relaxing.

And slowly he turned to you.

Again, you were so close that it was impossible for you not to think about what those lips would have tasted like.

“I know that I am still… not forgiven…” he seemed honestly a wounded puppy as he uttered those words “… but I’d die a happy man if I could kiss you, right now”.

And although everything you had been raised with screamed to you not to kiss him and your rational part agreed with that, it just felt so so good, that you simply nodded, closing your eyes, before you felt Ivar’s lips on yours.

The faint memory of your wedding kiss, having nothing to compare with the sheer intensity of this one, although Ivar was still attentive, caressing your lips to make them swell to their full bloom, almost as if he was tasting rose petals.

And you were right: his lips tasted of mead.

Then Ivar tried to deepen the kiss, something that you had never read or be told about, always thinking that a kiss was simply your lips against his, but something moist and sudden wetted the tip of your lips.

It took you by surprise and you shrieked, as you distanced yourself lightly by Ivar, as you realized he had been using his tongue.

Oh Gosh.

It hadn’t felt bad, it had actually felt good, but…

But that was a bit too much for you.

He seemed ashamed too, almost pained by your rejection.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tried to explain, and you just shook your head, as you carefully realized that your hair had been messed further by Ivar’s touches.

“I just… I didn’t know about…” and you flashed him your tongue, as Ivar’s eyes became again wicked and he sent you a teasing look, just to be decked by you on the shoulder, and he faked of being hurt.

“Gosh, Nanna is seriously training you”.

And you took this distraction to move on top of him, as you easily pushed yourself onto his torso, to further prove him that you weren’t somebody to be messed with, as the sound of laughter filled the clearing.

And you lowered yourself to shut Ivar up with a kiss of your own.

This time you wouldn’t have pulled back because of the tongue.

And just as you were inches apart you heard.

“Brother, (Y/N)!” and both you and Ivar raised your heads to find Ubbe and Hvitserk staring at you.

Embarrassment of having been caught in such an intimate position, coated both your cheeks, as you dismounted Ivar, hoping that the grass could hide you, as he turned to handle

Now you had just to discover why the nation that had pushed you out, now wanted you back.


	6. The Stupid Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pushed up to confront your previous 'owners', you delve in the joys of marital bliss, although nothing seems to last truly. Innocence and dreams even less.

_Just when I thought I was  
Running out of time  
The King stood trembling at my bedside_

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=ZTE5ZDIwOTcxYTIzNjUyNTQwNmVlNGI3ZWI4MThlYTM3NWI3MTY0NyxtR1ZIT0Rpdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190445537684%2Fto-kill-a-king-teaser&m=1) _

The ride on the chariot, this time, had been silent and although you weren’t sure, you had the sensation that Ivar went slower this time, almost as if he didn’t want to bring you there, as he held you against him, his own breath being uneven.

You thought about what English men wanted from you.

You almost dreaded the thought of being wanted back.

It made you feel like an object.

Nothing more than a vase to be traded.

The brothers had started off before you, to allow you the privacy to converse in peace and finish what they had interrupted, but Ivar hadn’t said anything, the intimacy you had owned a few moments before completely shredded to pieces, as he harshly suggested you adjusted your hair.

Strands of grass were in them, alongside the evident traces of Ivar’s kiss, since they had been evidently brushed up by Ivar’s bigger hands.

He still looked for your hand as you were finally ready to face the English warriors, and he had helped you again on the chariot, making sure to dust off the remaining of grass from your clothes as you did the same on his own.

You almost wanted to say comforting words, such as the ones you had saidion the small private piece of heaven, Ivar had offered you.

But this wasn’t the time.

And you couldn’t promise Ivar to stay if your father wanted you back.

You hoped it wasn’t what would have happened, since it would have certainly awakened the war you had been sold to finish.

Your father wouldn’t have been that stupid.

You hoped.

You met the English warriors at the border of the camp and you immediately recognized them as the border patrol unit, a rather smaller one in the English army, mostly travelling to make sure the borders and treaties were respected both by the heathen and both by the lords of England, that might use a moment of instability to gain more lands.

Like your father.

Gosh, he was quite clouding your mind, since you couldn’t help but feel like whatever was happening, he was for sure involved in it.

Nervousness flickered through you as Ivar beside you held his most unimpressed expression, something that made you uneasy, since this way he was quite difficult for you to understand him.

You wanted to hug him, since the feeling of his strong body was almost comforting to you, but it would have been highly inappropriate, even more now that you were faced with your own old motherland.

You quickly moved in front of the brothers, although Hvitserk, made sure to stand beside you on the side that Ivar didn’t occupy already, gently pushing an hand on your shoulder, as if he understood your uneasiness.

And then you were fully in front of your previous kinfolk.

And you didn’t recognize a single one of them, almost as if entire years had passed since you had started your new life in the Viking settlement.

It was better to get this over before nervousness got to you.

“I am princess (Y/N)” you screamed in order to be heard by the scouts, since a lengthy distance was between the two armies, with the Vikings seemingly ready to attack at any moment, meanwhile the Saxons looked quite fearful, even more because they weren’t in the slightest enough counterattack the heathens “… why have I been summoned, here?”.

Your words seemed more annoyed than you had intended them to be, but the memory of Ivar’s lips on yours was still recent, and the way his hand gently pressed its way in your arms, already made you missing of the intimacy you had shared.

No cunning thoughts or mischievous plans between you two.

You had expected a few soldiers of your father to appear, although none of them wore its emblem, but then the crowd of soldiers opened, revealing, finally, a familiar face.

A fair-haired boy walked in front of the army, his light grey eyes searching for something, till they set on you, as his steady body finally seemed to relax.

Alexander appeared in your full view, and for once since all this meeting had been announced, you were happy to see a Saxon face among them, as he moved closer to you, walking the lengthy distance between the two formations, till both Hvitserk and Ubbe stepped up to stop him.

Your arm immediately shot up to the younger brother, as you pushed him back lightly, even going as far as to pull his hair to catch his attention and you whispered in his ear that you knew him.

And Alexander’s eyes, now, spoke of a similar recognition.

And soon, his hands moved to do what his eyes spoke of, as he, after both the brothers had been reeled back, pushed you in his arms, lightly raising you off the ground, making you giggle.

He twirled you laughing of happiness, making you completely forget where you were.

And then when he set you down, you had forgotten all around yourself.

Not many people, back in the castle had been your friends, truly.

But Alexander had been your dearest friend.

And your first crush.

Although that ship had sailed and sunk long ago.

“… what are you doing, here?” you giggled softly, as you tried to adjust your hair behind your ears, meanwhile Alexander regarded your strange outfit of the day, something that made you blush, but you coughed lightly to bring his attention back to your question.

“We are actually here for you, (Y/N)” he spoke softly, before he straightened up his back, pushing himself in a more honorable position, as if he hadn’t just broken the entire castle etiquette, in hugging you in that way “… we are here to check on you, princess (Y/N)”.

“Why?” you were honestly surprised to discover the reason, mostly because it made you almost feel like you had done something wrong.

Was your father not happy of the little information you had given him?

Alexander lightly lowered his stance, almost conspiratorially.

“… we have heard news that you had been accused of having poisoned a prince and were facing a trial for that…” realization hit your face, as you lightly moved to turn your head back, recognizing among the many Viking faces Heahmund’s one, who looked honestly relieved at seeing the small Saxon army.

And then your eyes fell onto Ivar, as your head made to turn to Alexander.

His mouth was slightly agape, as his eyes held a brokenness in them that made you shift your whole attention to him, as you noticed that his hands had been left around in the position they were when he was holding onto you.

You immediately reached around, pushing one hand between you and your heart broke at the eagerness Ivar showed in taking it, before his face became again impossible to understand, as he shifted his eyes away from you, as if he hadn’t been bothered by your intimacy with Alexander a few minutes before.

“It isn’t anything too bad” you mumbled lightly in Norse “… he is a friend”.

He just grunted, and knowing that he wouldn’t hear any explanation, you turned heavily to Alexander, glad that Ivar’s hold on your hand was still a small link between you.

“… I was” shock appeared in Alexander’s eyes “… but it was all a plot against Ivar, all the accusations fell quickly yesterday and my life is alright, I am sorry you had to come here for nothing, my father must have been truly annoyed to have to send..”.

“It is not your father who sent us” your friend spoke and you were immediately surprised, shock written all over your face “… our God-blessed king Alfred asked us to check on you, to make sure that you were safe”.

“I am”.

You wanted all of this to cut itself quickly, since you could feel the tension between the two armies, because although they were in no one’s land, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be conquered.

“I’d like to make sure of it myself” spoke Alexander, as he grabbed on the hand that Ivar didn’t hold, making effectively the worst move possibly, because as he gripped forward, Ivar gripped you back to himself, effectively overpowering your friend.

And you cursed yourself for being stuck between two men.

“… my wife told you she is fine, Saxon, now go back to your lands” Ivar’s words were a veiled threat, and although you didn’t like his tone and sent him an harsh glare to remind him of his tone.

“I said I’d like to prove it myself” replied in an even more hissing tone, Alexander, holding himself as arrogantly as he could, something that always fascinated you, but right now, against Ivar’s sheer power, he looked like a boy who was challenging a man.

“And I do think that I have a saying in this” you surprised the two men, pipping in, as you broke away from both grips, meanwhile Hvitserk behind you giggled at the ridiculousness “… Alexander, has my tongue ever been anything less than truthful?”.

He shook his head at your reprimand as Ivar shook his head, already tasting victory, and you decided to take advantage of it, turning to him, as you joined your hands together.

Truly the portrait of the perfect couple.

“… I’ll walk with him to make sure that he comes back to the army, I won’t leave your view, don’t worry” you knew it sounded almost pathetic, but Ivar didn’t already seemed pleased to solely leave your hand “… it is a necessity that I show him that I am not hurt”.

“I would never hurt you” spoke tenderly Ivar, as his hand broke away from the hold of yours, lightly caressing your face to reinforce the concept, a gesture that made you smile softly, as you leaned in the simple touch “… he dishonor my land and men saying that”.

Why with men it was always about honor?

“… I know” you spoke softly “… but they don’t know it, so just let me show them that I am happy with you”.

The words seemed to hit him deeply.

But never as much as they hit with you.

Because they were the truth.

You had been happy with him.

Not always and sometimes he could be quite a pain in the ass, but…

… he made you smile.

“… I swear that nothing will happen” you promised “… I swear it on the crown”.

That seemed to get to Ivar, whose tense expression disappeared in a smirk, as his other hand went to your waist, something that made you breathe out at his boldness.

“… are you using my ideas against me?” he commented with that insane arrogance, that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t you have liked to be still there in your own private heaven, on top of him, tasting him as he explored your body.

And at the same time, shame brought a slight blush all over your body, starting from your neck and pushing itself on your cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to be your smart wife?” you retorted, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“… that’s more like cunning” he replied, before he brought your hand to his lips, a mark of possessiveness in his reply that made you smirk softly “… walk him back and tell them to leave”.

You nodded, as you turned to Alexander, who tried and failed to hide his confusion, and you suddenly noticed that you had spoken in Norse, without even noticing it with Ivar.

“… let’s go, my proud knight” you commented offering him his arm, as both Hvitserk and Ubbe were told to back off by Ivar, who turned his back to you, going back to his cart, meanwhile his brothers trailed after him, something mischievous in Hvitserk’s eyes.

You were glad you didn’t have to deal with his annoying questions.

Alexander took your arm, almost as if he didn’t believe it fully and gently started walking, at a slower pace than your own.

You kept in silence, till you were a bit away from heathens and then Alexander moved to talk, finally:

“Is it true that you aren’t in danger, anymore?” he asked “… Heahmund sent a letter and your sister Kathleen received it…”.

That explained the urgency and fear in Alexander’s arrival at the camp.

Gosh, it made you miss Kathleen.

With all the turn of events and the need to desperately win Ivar over, you hadn’t thought much about the love you had for your sister.

The loyalty that bound all of you.

“… and she convinced king Alfred to send a dispatch of border soldiers to check on you” Alexander continued to explain, as a small smirk appeared on your face.

“How did Kathleen manage to convince father and him?” you asked, honestly surprised, because although you knew that your sister Kathleen could drag the Devil away from his throne, you didn’t know how much a man like king Alfred might be pushed to agree on such a deal.

It made you wonder what was going on in the castle, during your absence.

“… it’s Kathleen” he commented tightly, shooting you a look as if to say ‘you know how she is’ “… she never wanted to play Guinevere’s parts when we played ‘The Legend of Arthur’, insisting she’d make a dashing Lancilot”.

“That she did”.

And that had always let Abigail be Guinever, meanwhile you were the witch Morgan, always being fascinated with such creatures, since it had made you feel powerful in your own way.

You had never been as strong as Kathleen or as cunning as Abigail, so to have magical powers…

… it had been a dream from you.

Imagination had been your sole weapon against your dull reality.

Alexander was the son of one of your father’s lords, a smaller one, cursed by the fact that that he was the second male child, hence he wouldn’t inherit much, unless he forged his own Destiny.

He would have been the least adapt match for you, according to your father.

But that had only invigorated the love that you had felt for him.

Although right now, with the knowledge of past facts, you knew it wasn’t anything more than an infatuation.

It was puppy love: you had always admired the strength of Alexander, the way he was so bright and funny, in a way that charmed anybody who had ever come upon his path.

But you had soon discovered that you weren’t the sole one charmed by him.

You had once caught him with one of the kitchen servants, and that had been the end of your first ever love story.

You had been heartbroken, mostly when he always promised you to run away with you, away from your father and his cruelty to be his own Guinevere.

But that had never happened.

And your dreams had been shattered.

From then on it had been simply a good friendship between you, although you hadn’t had much time to spend together since he had been enrolled against the heathens, even going as far as being sent to Ireland in some scouting missions, so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time.

Your mind had been quite troubled lately so the thought of him hadn’t crossed your mind, even more since your love for him had become a more tender affection.

“… and you are safe, aren’t you?” he asked, as he gently made you to turn around to face him “… they don’t mistreat you, do they?”.

“They don’t” you commented as you breathed out, trying to keep yourself the absolute calmest “… they have been welcoming, if you don’t count the fact that I was involved in a ploy to belittle Ivar”.

“You call him Ivar?” almost disbelief spoke in his eyes as you said that.

“What should I call him?” you shot back “… I do call him ‘husband’, if you are curious”.

“I am just…” he seemed at lack of words at your reply “… and you have even learned Norse, I just… feel like…”.

“I did what I had to do to survive” you commented, a flare of anger appearing in your eyes at Alexander’s questions, which reminded you of Heahmund, alongside the accusation hid behind them.

That you had turned away from the rightful way to the heathen’s one.

“That is right” Alexander commented, his uneasiness finally calming, as he moved to softly grab onto one of your hands “… I am sorry I wasn’t able to stop this from happening, you didn’t deserve it”.

“… you didn’t know, and you couldn’t have done much, knowing my father” you replied lowly, as you gripped back onto his hand, gently rubbing your thumb on the back of it “… I am actually surprised that you are here, I thought you were in Ireland, during your own scouting duties”.

“Alwin died” he replied and finally his eyes became darker with grief and you weren’t able to stop surprise from appearing on his face, at the news that Alexander’s older brother and heir to his father’s lands had died “… fighting against the heathens, although father didn’t want him to”.

“My condolences to you and your father” you spoke, measuring your words.

Although Alexander and Alwin had never been truly tight-knit brothers, always in competition for their father’s attention, you knew that it must have destroyed him to have that news, even more when his eyes showed the guilt of not having been able to protect his brother.

You understood him all too well.

“Father then had me coming back, although I told him I’d still be in the scouting legion, even more when I discovered what had happened to you” his eyes spoke of a true pain at the knowledge of what had befell on you, and you smiled trying to reassure him.

“… although this isn’t my ideal life, they treat me well, I swear it on the Holy Virgin” you promised him softly “… they haven’t ever hit me and Ivar…”.

‘… and Ivar kisses me like I am the only woman in the whole world for him’.

Your cheeks reddened at that thought.

“… he is gentle with me”.

Alexander didn’t look convinced and you knew that you hadn’t much time or options to convince him.

“… just give me more time” he suggested softly, as he pleaded to you, grabbing your hands with the same gesture Ivar had done not too long ago, and his deep grey eyes faced you, surprising you even further when he lowered himself on his knees “… please, my brave gentle princess, accord more time to me, so that I can let your sister know that you are safe and sound”.

Although the entire set-up was almost comical, this might have been quite the problem, because Ivar had clearly shown up that he didn’t like in the slightest the thought of Saxon men on his borders, but at the same time Alexander was stubborn.

You knew it all too well.

“Settle up for the night, I’ll talk with my husband” you pointed out the last word, as Alexander nodded eagerly, bringing your hand to his lips, and although you blushed at the silly gesture you couldn’t help but feel hollow from the small crush you had felt before.

“… you are an angel, princess”.

“I better be, because I’ll need a miracle to convince Ivar”.

* * *

“This is an insult!” in fact screamed Ivar, as you and his brothers held a private council in the main hall.

You had informed Ivar of everything on the chariot and although his focus hadn’t left for a single moment the control of the horse, he had stilled underneath you.

He was actively avoiding to let his anger feast on you, but he was bitter and he wouldn’t have had such a dishonoring command over himself.

“… and the people won’t have it” added Ubbe, sending you a small look as if to say ‘it is all your fault’, something that made you turn a bright smile at him, as you adjusted in the chair next to Ivar.

“I know” you commented, trying to calm all the souls around you “… but also the Saxons wouldn’t have left, if I hadn’t promised to try to let them stay and see me”.

“We can fight them” commented Hvitserk, drinking heavily from his horn, as you sent him an unbelieving glare, but immediately Bjorn backed him up, indeed reminding you that the Vikings had a completely different mindset from the Saxons.

And you were stuck between them, trying to find an agreement,

“You might, but it would destroy the peace my marriage sealed” and you sent a pleading look to Ivar, whose eyes still kept away from you, making you damnably nervous “… and you might defeat a scouting legion, but it’ll just put you to risk”.

“People will question this decision” Ivar simply commented, as he sent you a small look as if to ask you whether you realized the chaos that would ensue by your decision.

“… and you aren’t exactly popular among them” replied tightly Ubbe, something that this time got him a harsh look from you, as Ivar said a quick ‘don’t talk like that to my wife’.

It made you dizzy, to know that he defended you like that.

“… it isn’t exactly my fault for that” you commented “… but we could use the celebrations as an excuse: we invited the Saxons over to show them our victory over them, hiding this behind the semblance of a peaceful negotiation”.

The brothers didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, although they agreed begrudgingly, knowing that neither the opponents would have backed down and this was the best option for both.

“It isn’t enough” mumbled Ivar darkly, as he shot you a small look “… we don’t gain anything from this, and nobody of our warriors will celebrate next to some Saxon”.

“Then say that it is for an agreement for new lands” Ivar looked at you confused “… I have some lands to my name from my mother’s side, exclusively, say I have given them to you as a wedding gift and the Saxons are here to ensure the sanctity and rightfulness of the agreement”.

Your mother had bounded, before dying, some lands to your and your sisters’ names exclusively, to ensure that no matter what befell you, you’d have something for your dowry or to survive.

The question of these lands had annoyed your father, because he couldn’t have them and neither he could have used them as his own, as they were exclusively yours and they could be controlled solely by you, when you had come of age or married.

They weren’t as big as your actual dowry, but without a doubt they could have seemed quite the deal for Ivar, who simply looked at you surprised at that revelation, risking of choking on his ale, but he immediately composed back, agreeing to this with a tight nod.

“… then send the message that the Saxons are staying simply for that” he announced to his brothers, and you could see a similar grimace appear on both Bjorn’s and Ubbe’s faces.

They didn’t like that their younger brother chose for them.

But they didn’t say much, excusing themselves to spread the news, meanwhile Hvitserk stood in the room, painfully unwanted, till Ivar told himself to wait for you outside.

He had to exchange a few words with you privately and then Hvitserk would accompany you back to your tent, in order for you to write a letter to the Saxons, alongside talking with Heahmund, something that you didn’t tell Ivar, although it was high on your list of things to do.

Hvitserk trotted back, quickly, although he shot you a light smirk, as if he knew what you meant to do in your free time, and you weren’t able to stop the slight blush from appearing on your face.

Ivar did share a bit of red also on his cheeks, but his eyes were sharp till Hvitserk moved away, and then they settled on you, extremely tame with their thoughts making them appear like a storm, held back solely by wind.

“… I won’t take your lands” it was a bare answer, a whisper of indeed a storm that was starting, and you felt shaken to your very core by that revelation.

“What?”.

Any man would have seized all your belongings without a second thought or even asking you for your opinion, something that you personally found barbaric to say the least.

It was how court and wives worked.

It was how life had always worked.

Women were just the means to gain more lands and properties.

“… your lands will stay yours” he promised “… I’ll give them back to you as a wedding gift”.

“There is no need…” you started, but Ivar’s eyes shut you up quickly, as a hand of his went to thread itself in your hair, making you look up at him.

“They are your mother’s, aren’t they?” he searched your eyes for the truth, but you still nodded to assert it “… then they’ll never belong to me”.

“Thank you” you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture that made you smirk softly, as you joined your hand with Ivar’s, gently bringing it to your lips, as the boy in front of you smiled softly.

“… and I have no interest in lands in England” he commented, trying to move away the attention from the gentleness he had showed “… Kattegat is my home”.

And soon it would have been yours too.

* * *

You adjusted yourself on the chair to the table you had been sat on for the previous half an hour, the letter meant for Alexander half-written, as you played around with the tip of the feather you were writing with, constantly annoyed by Angelika, who stood on your bed.

The handmaidens had all been excused, once you had arrived back in the tent, except for Turid who had been sent to retrieve and give an hour to bishop Heahmund, in order for you to meet up and tell him what would have been happening next.

What had happened now that you knew where his loyalties laid.

You also wanted to reinstate your strength and power over him, since he had seemed to forget about it.

As much as you damnably appreciated his attempt in helping you, the fact that he had sent a letter for your father without helping you or contacting you first, showed much of the true purpose of his staying beside you.

Something that you couldn’t have when you were stuck in the Viking settlements solely with him as your ally.

“… so, was you day with prince Ivar good?” Angelika asked you as you were rereading the last line you had written, almost throwing the feather out of your hands at the boldness of your handmaiden.

“None of your business” you replied, sharply, trying to focus again your attention on the letter, but Angelika smirked like a feline who knew that had hit a sore spot.

“… oh c’mon… don’t you want to tell me all the lovely moments you shared?” she continued on poking on you “… is he even able of some romance?”.

“Why isn’t Lia or Arabella here?” you wondered, raising your eyes up to the sky, annoyedly, although you were almost tempted to confess her the way you had felt for Ivar.

You had never had friends to who you could confess your own emotion and thoughts.

Your father’s court was a nest of snakes.

You had learnt early not to trust anybody with most of your thoughts.

You had grown up guarded, except with your sisters.

And without them you found yourself uneasy, both because you couldn’t talk with anybody about how you felt and both because the sole thought of confessing everything that was going through your mind tempted you and hurt you at the same time.

“… they are at training” she explained, although that annoying smirk didn’t leave her face.

“Why aren’t you there with them?” you commented, spitting the same softened venom you used for her.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt myself” she shot back tightly, and then she moved to highlight her face “… I wouldn’t want to ruin the only precious thing I own”.

“Dashing” you muttered, but it was only partially venomous, since you couldn’t help but notice the sad truth in her words: women truly didn’t own much but their beauty in this sick world “… it was nice… with prince Ivar”.

Her eyes caught fire at that small affirmation.

“Did you kiss him?”.

Now you were burning red hot and the letter was forgotten on your desk, and you turned quickly to her, definitely giving her the answer she was looking for and with a very ungraceful movement, she fell with her back on the side of your bed, laughing loudly.

“Oh Gosh! You kissed the heathen!”.

“Lower your voice, Angelika” you ordered her, although it was more an ashamed shriek, as the handmaiden didn’t even try to shut her sharp mouth “Somebody will hear!”.

“As if kissing your husband was something to be ashamed …” commented the same girl who had called your husband a ‘monster’ “… unless he is a bad kisser that is”.

Your cheeks reddened further and Angelika sent you a look as if to ask if she had guessed right, but you just shook your head, leaving your chair and your letter, since your head didn’t seem to have any idea on how to continue, your mind taken back to what it had felt with Ivar.

The gentleness and the respect his exploration had given you, as he softly took your lips in his, in a soft pressure that almost made you taste heaven.

And yet that same kiss opened the doors of hell beneath you.

But had you ever cared for that?

“… he is very good” you commented, not knowing fully why your lips were felt so loose all of a sudden “… but… I am not… as versed as him…”.

“… why doesn’t that surprise me?” replied the other girl, before she made you fall with a quick grab on your waist, so that you were at them same level, something that made you extremely nervous, never having been this close to another girl that wasn’t blood-related with you.

And after Caryn’s betrayal, the proximity hurt you even more.

But Angelika’s eyes were captivating and soon the embarrassment slowly eased up.

“… I could teach you” now they held the same wickedness of a big cat “… we could practice together”.

The suggestion made you redden significatively and you threw her a shocked expression, immediately raising yourself up, as she erupted in laughter.

And although you knew she was teasing you, it wasn’t insulting.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but no” you commented tightly, as you adjusted yourself, in a seated position, right when Turid opened the tent to check in whether you were comfortable to talk with Heahmund.

You blushed but nodded, excusing Angelika off, as you adjusted your hair, already knowing that your outfit of the day would have shocked enough the bishop, since you hadn’t changed from the outfit you had worn for your walk with Ivar.

Angelika moved annoyedly away, meanwhile Turid pushed Heahmund in, taking her leave, alongside Angelika, although her eyes shone of wickedness and you weren’t sure about whether she’d just leave, or she’d spy onto the conversation.

“… it is good to see you safe and sound” commented tightly the bishop, as he immediately came to you, kneeling before you and kissing your hand as a sign of respect, but you kept your eyes tight on him, steely and royally pissed “… I have heard that the scouting army came to check on you, my lady…”.

“Thank to you” it was a sarcastic mutter, and Heahmund soon noticed it, raising his head, to finally notice your bad humor.

“You aren’t happy with my actions, princess” his voice was almost a reprimand in itself and you held his glare, as you pushed out your breath, straightening your back.

“… not in the slightest, bishop” you replied, hissing through your teeth, something of your stance taking after the postures you had seen in Ivar “… you called my father, before even trying to help me”.

“I wouldn’t have done it, had I had any other choice!” he protested “… the Vikings wouldn’t let me see you and neither hear me, and let me tell you I couldn’t think of any other choice than to ask your father”.

Although you absolutely recognized Heahmund’s reasonings, his act had damaged you greatly, almost making you risk your life again.

Had he been truly worried for you, he’d have asked anybody but your father, since it was instead clear that his letter hadn’t been a scream of help for your own health, but a worry for your purpose in the settlements.

And it hurt you, although you knew that to your father and him you didn’t matter much more than for what you could give to them both.

“… next time you have to send a letter to my father, you’ll ask me or my handmaidens before” your voice this time didn’t ask for any replies, as it became steely rigid and strong “… and from now on if I ever catch on any information I’ll be the one to send you letters, there will be no need for you to come here”.

Heahmund’s eyes spoke of his complete humiliation at those orders followed by a blinding rage, but he simply nodded, bowing and taking his leave without being excluded.

“Bishop Heahmund” you called him one last time “… my father might not care the destiny that befell me, but let me tell you that I am much more influential than my position might let you think. For now, I have the strength to make this mission end well or badly, and I won’t undervalue it”.

“Understood” that was what you wanted to hear, and you excused him, dropping on the bed, as you had done with Angelika, feeling a series of emotion that made you almost nauseous for the various shifting they did in your mind.

You had always known that your life mattered little in your father’s hands, but you hadn’t thought it was that little, enough that you weren’t in charge of your own decision.

And that if you had overstepped your boundaries, your father would have gladly left you to die.

It hadn’t passed unnoticed to you that Alexander had said that it had been Alfred who had sent the army, because of Kathleen’s talks.

You already knew that your father didn’t care for you, even more for the shame you would have brought on his line, getting caught so early, before you could be truly useful.

He wouldn’t have taken you back, ever, now that you were tainted.

You knew that if you didn’t die on this mission by Ivar or his men’s hands, you father would have taken the thing in his own hands.

And had he ever taken pity on you, he wouldn’t have allowed much more than a shed in the wood, with no help except yourself to witness your slow death.

You had never thought that your Destiny would have been so horrible.

But now all the signs showed that no matter the momentary peace you were having, you would have had an unhappy ending.

You had been too busy with making Ivar like you at first and then protecting your own ass, but now that you thought about it, it just…

… it made you feel hollow.

Not because you were scared of death.

In death you would have found your mother again, and you would have been free from the pain of your earthly body.

But did your life matter so little truly?

A few weeks ago you thought that your life did matter so little, since in the end there wasn’t much you could bring to the table, still now you found it difficult to find yourself worthy of your title and life.

But Ivar’s words spoke to your mind, alongside the small goals you had accomplished in the camp, defeating Halfdan and Harald, creating your own court and making yourself known, as you spied on it.

You were training, your body was becoming stronger and you had found yourself being smart enough to find a solution, to talk with Ivar and be appreciated by him, because although he might not have felt love for you, he clearly admired your ways.

You could have allied with Ivar to avoid such a pitiful ending.

You could have confessed what you had been obliged to do, hoping in his anger he might see the advantage of having you by your side, although you couldn’t offer much more than your brain and your pretty face.

But what would have been of your sisters?

They would have been left to rot, maybe your father would have killed Abigail, since she wasn’t useful to him or his heir.

And you wouldn’t have survived it.

One thing was to play with your life, another was to play with your sisters’.

“… are you alright?” you were brought back by your awful thought by Hvitserk, as you immediately pushed yourself in a seated position, trying to shift away a grimace from your face as he walked in “… did the priest annoy you? Ivar will have him killed…”.

“That’d be a relief” you commented darkly, surprising the ever-cheerful Hvitserk, but then a pure look of focus fell onto his face “… I was joking”.

“Just give me the order, princess”.

“… I won’t forget it” you smiled at him sadly, as you got up, thinking that if you had spent more time with this situation on your mind, you would have probably ended up with your head growing as big as an oak.

It was better to train a bit to release the feeling of dreariness your heart held at the moment, ignoring the unfinished letter, since you didn’t know anymore what words to find.

“… did you and my brother fight?” he asked, trying to urge you in talking, seeing that you were quite unresponsive “… because I thought you looked pretty cozy back then, in the field…”.

You blushed red till even your ears were of that color.

“No, we didn’t fight…”.

“Then did you kiss?” now you were going to surely pass out from your overheated cheeks, since you couldn’t help but be embarrassed as you remembered the notion of having been caught in such a compromising position.

“… why is everyone so obsessed with knowing the details of my private life?” you muttered loudly, sending Hvitserk a pointed look, but he, exactly like Angelika didn’t back down.

“Oh please” pleaded Hvitserk, pushing his hands in a mocking pleading pose “… pretty please (Y/N) give me something to tease my brother with”.

“You won’t find an ally in me for annoying your brother” you retorted, with a tight smirk, as you pushed him lightly away, gaining a gleaming look from Hvitserk.

“… oh, pretty please, my princess” he insisted making you huff out loudly.

“Annoy your brother and not me” you simply finished the conversation, although you couldn’t help but be feel yourself a bit calmer.

But those horrible thoughts you continued on having quite the influence on you, hanging on your head like a Damocles’ sword.

“… then at least let me know when you and Angelika will practice kissing”.

You couldn’t help but be shocked by this confession, even more as you realized what Hvitserk had to do to hear those words.

He had listened on your conversation.

“… did you…” your voice choked in worry, and you tried to shove it down “… did you overhear what I was talking about with Angelika?”.

Hvitserk seemed to feel your uneasiness and quickly pushed up his hands as if to defend himself.

“… I just was by the tent” he commented tightly “… I left before the priest entered, wouldn’t want to ruin the secret of your confession?”.

A tight grimace was welcomed by a blanker expression, as you tried to calm yourself down, glad that he hadn’t heard of your talking with Heahmund.

“Don’t listen on any of my conversation” you replied biting your lips, as you pointed out each word “… because if you do, I’ll put poison ivy in your bed”.

“Oh, I am used to it, it won’t affect me anymore” he grinned wickedly, but you had another idea, as you raised up from the bed, knowing perfectly that Hvitserk would follow, as you exited the tent.

“Then I’ll curse you” your words were light and easy, unlike his meaning.

And Hvitserk’s grin dropped quickly.

“… how… how would you do that?” he asked, as you simply moved forward, and he kept on running after you till the stable, meanwhile you muttered something in Latin.

‘Rosa, rosae, rosae…’.

And he simply looked at you with worried eyes.

“… what was that?”.

“Just a little warning” you commented, getting Bukefalos out of his stables.

“… you are joking, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”.

But you ignored him, and before you knew it you heard him cursing loudly as he accidentally pressed his boot in horse shit.

Sometimes curses didn’t have to be real to work.

* * *

Training with Nanna had destroyed you and as you had been forced to attend dinner in the main hall, you had almost fallen asleep with your head in the soup.

Nanna had insisted on training double, since you hadn’t attended the previous lesson, something that left you breathless and tired, even more since you had been forced to move from the defense to attack stances, something that made you uneasy, to say the least.

You didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest using violence against anybody, because not only being attacked reminded you of your father, but knowing how to kill wouldn’t have made you similar to that man you dreaded the absolute most?

‘Why do I have to learn how to attack others?’ you had muttered to Nanna, as the woman tried to teach you how to properly punch somebody, reminding you of taking the thumb out of the fist.

She had seemed to almost take personal offense to that.

‘… how do you expect to maintain your throne if you don’t fight’.

You had explained to her, that you had your own throne set up and you hadn’t much to worry, although all your thoughts of the previous afternoon weren’t comforting in the slightest.

‘… you should actually worry about your throne, even more with an husband like that’ her comment about Ivar had appeared bitter and you had tried your best to nod your head softly, taking in what looked like interesting information ‘… Ivar wants the crown’.

‘He already has it’ you had mumbled ‘… he is a prince, with numerous victories and conquered lands on his part’.

‘… and he wants more’ she had simply replied, her lips turning in a bitter expression ‘… he wants the crown of Kattegat, which Lagertha, the current queen of Kattegars, his father’s land, is withholding away from him, and believe me, he’ll fight for it and you’ll have too’.

You hadn’t replied anything anymore, although the knowledge of Ivar’s plans didn’t make you in any way more comfortable or less at uneasy about this entire day, and you almost wished it’d just be over soon.

But it certainly all explained why the brothers’ relationships were so tense among them.

And why Ivar had called you ‘queen’.

You felt him nudging you lightly, as you stood with the spoon so close and yet so far away from your mouth, stopped midair.

You quickly pushed the soup in your mouth, grimacing at the fact that the soup had grown cold, but forcing a few more bites of it on your mouth, because although you weren’t hungry, your body needed some food.

“… want me to feed you” commented Ivar, with a smirk on his face as he drunk a cup of ale, meanwhile you sent him a light glare, through your hooded eyes, pushing a final spoon past your lips, keeping it there, as you sleepily looked for a small towel to clean your face “… it has been a tough day, we’ll go to sleep, as soon as you are done with food”.

“Can you pass me your crutch? I might need it to go back” you mumbled, as you leaned lightly on him, for the simple fact that he was damnably warm and you were lightly cold from the bath you had done before coming there, your hair lightly damp, but pushed in a soft updo to dry them faster.

“… you certainly didn’t lose your humor alongside your appetite” he laughed, before he took in your hand to help you up, excusing you and him from his brothers, who barely sent him a look, except Hvitserk who told him that ‘he shouldn’t work you so hard’ and ‘he should give you a break’, in a way that seemed to reference to something that you and Ivar had never done together.

“… Hvitserk, want anymore horseshit?” you mumbled, unable to withhold any curtesy, something that got to Hvitserk quickly as he sat back down, meanwhile you felt Ivar hide a small smirk behind his hand.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, as you slumped next to each other, your handmaidens welcoming you inside, and you dismissed them, giving them some orders for tomorrow, as you felt a strange agitation brewing among them since, the following day, you were supposed to be choosing a dress for the party that was to be held in three days.

The girls had been told that they could have chosen a dress each in order to properly take part to the celebrations, and they had been thrilling happily for the whole afternoon, and you doubted they’d be able to sleep, too excited for the dresses.

Unlike you.

You unfastened Ivar’s braces, noticing that although he had humored you back at the dinner table, he now seemed almost distant to you, and you didn’t know if he was simply tired or there was something more.

But at the same time, deep down, you knew that with Ivar there was something more.

He was already in bed, when you finished brushing your hair and you were in your nightgown, dragging your heavy limbs towards the bed, as you sat on its end, being able to face Ivar, who looked extremely surprised by your position.

“Is anything wrong?” you thought about asking, although Ivar simply shook his head “… is it… is it for Alexander?”.

You had hit straight up in the bullseye, with the way his eyes shone of true annoyance.

“… we are solely friends” you commented “… I was a lonely child and he was the only one who indulged in silly games”.

Still silence, and you thought that if it had to go on like this, you had to drop the big news.

“… and I did have a slight infatuation on him, back then”.

This got to him, finally.

He simply moved to push himself in a seated position.

“… do you still like him?” it was a demand that made you laugh, as Ivar looked at you extremely serious.

“As a friend, but nothing more than that” you simply stated “… I… was a gullible girl, back then… and he was so handsome…”.

“I am not interested in hearing it” he commented with a rather sour tone, and you couldn’t help but smirk lightly, as you moved to settle closer to him, till you were eye-to-eye.

He tried to push himself away, but you held him in place.

“… it wasn’t love, it was a simple crush” you explained “… he broke my heart and I realized how hollow my feelings for him truly were. And from then on, it was only friendship from me”.

Ivar’s gaze seemed to lightly calm itself, although he didn’t look convinced.

“You have nothing to fear, truly”.

“Yeah, the cripple has for sure nothing to fear” he commented grumpily and you brought him instead to look at you in the face, not wanting this to push something between you, when you were so close with him.

Your life was a mess and strangely that blue-eyed heathen was the only relief you had been getting, lately.

The only good thing.

And this close, you wanted to kiss him.

Again, and again.

“… if it makes your ego feel better, I found you more handsome than Alexander” you confessed, as you gently moved an hand on his partially unbuttoned tunic, gently nearing the naked skin, as you felt Ivar take a sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t make fun of me” he commented loudly, making to turn around, but you stopped him and you made him look at you in the eyes.

“… I don’t” you muttered “… from the moment I saw you, I just found myself fascinated with you”.

He blushed, although he didn’t look convinced.

“I now love Alexander, with the same intensity I love Hvitserk, so you shouldn’t worry” you adjusted yourself to slip under the cover, moving closer to Ivar to make him avoid pushing you away “… there isn’t anything you should be worried about”.

“… because you are so enamored with me” he uttered sarcastically, and although you knew that it was damnably wrong both for your beliefs and both for the fact that you would have to betray him, you were starting to slowly feel something for him.

“I am starting to be…” you admitted, and you knew that any disbelief Ivar had pushed itself away, at your tender expression, something that you wouldn’t have been able to fake.

Gently a hand of his threaded its way through your hair, as he brought you closer, pressing softly your lips against his, something that made smile brightly, as you embraced him loosely.

If this life of yours would end up in a painful way, you’d enjoy all the pleasure you found.

That tender kiss was followed by a few more, till you were comfortably snuggled in Ivar’s arms, as you giggled at his bold gestures, eventually settling on a kiss to your forehead, insisting you both fell asleep, before it was too late.

But your body ached for more, definitely awake.

“… but seriously Ivar, I don’t… I don’t feel bad for you, and this isn’t pity” you muttered, tantalizing brushing your lips together, as he tightened his grip on your hair “… you are… different that is right, but you aren’t… you are more than anybody else because of that, I am sure, I swear it on the crown”.

He looked at you intensely and again you couldn’t understand what was going through his head, but you knew you had to say it.

The knowledge of your imminent death suddenly making you bold.

“… you are starting to blabber silly things, wife, you must be truly tired” he commented, but his eyes shone of true thankfulness, as he kissed your nose, tickling you softly, as he brought you closer, almost as if you were his own pillow “… go to sleep, lovely”.

“I like it when you call me that” you softly muttered, but closed your eyes and sleep took you over.

* * *

You slept comfortably, although it wasn’t anything more than an endless slumber, black but relaxing.

Your limbs felt as heavy as iron, and as you moved on your side to find a more comfortable pose, grimacing at the pain that shot from a small hit you had received the previous day, meanwhile you were training with Lia.

The handmaiden had tried to apologize, but you had simply complimented her on her strong right hook, making her laugh awkwardly, as she checked your face for any improper reply.

You felt Ivar matching your movements, bringing you back to his chest, as he softly moved you closer, making you smirk.

A week before he had been so cold with you, enough to make you feel at great unease, but now…

… he was cuddling you closer, as if you were of extreme value.

“… would you mind staying still?” he commented, making you well aware that he had woken up at the same time you had turned around, his grouchy voice making you rub unconsciously your legs together.

“It is late” you commented, seeing the sun pouring up through the thick veils of your tent, but what made you aware that you had both overslept was the fact that you could hear the life of the settlement moving up all around you.

Something that you strangely found familiar.

“… don’t you have some mischievous plan to plot?” you teased Ivar, feeling him growl annoyedly at your comment, as he turned on his back.

“You are devious” he lightly pinched your side, making you elbow him right back, although you laughed loudly “… and I do have things to do, but I don’t… I don’t want to get up”.

The confession made your body tremble lightly, because it felt truly heartfelt.

You knew that Ivar had some kind of infatuation with you or with at least the artificial version of you he had in his mind.

And you had survived for that, among the Vikings.

But his latest comment felt damnably true, as if both your feelings for each other were becoming… real.

And it almost scared you.

“… me neither” you mumbled, as his head shot to you, surprised by your own admission, finally bringing you closer as you felt the cleavage of your nightgown slide down and the part on your legs riding up “… but if I don’t bring my handmaidens to Hilde, this morning, they’ll organize a conspiracy against me”.

“I doubt it” protested Ivar loudly, pushing himself softly onto you, to physically prevent you from raising yourself “… they are all enamored with you”.

“Uh uh” you nodded lightly, as your eyes twinkled lightly “… I can actually think of a few people that don’t want me here”.

His eyes became sharp, as you commented that, a threat in them.

Not against you.

But against anybody who had dared hurting you.

Part of you almost wanted to confess him the pain your father had made you undergo, alongside the one that would happen when all of this was over.

Because you knew that he’d shelter you form that.

“… you are very much wanted here” he breathed on your lips, as he lightly pushed your hair away from your face, with a delicateness that made you blush, as you leaned in his hand “... please stay this morning in bed”.

“I can’t” you bit your lips, feeling like it was a true ache to your chest.

But you knew that you couldn’t indulge any longer.

You had to finish the letter to send to Alexander before lunch time, since you had asked him to join you for lunch and you had to go to Hilde, since she had already sent you a small note to let you know that she had a dress for you.

The fact that you hadn’t asked one made you a bit confused by the request of the tailor, but you loved deeply the creations she had gotten for you, hence you couldn’t deny her.

“… what if I made you stay” and then he was on top of you, a pleasurable oppression, that made you laugh, as his hands went to tickle your side, a playful side of him coming out as you tried to kick him away, completely exiting the fight disheveled, but victorious, once you put one of your cold feet on his chest.

“I won’t tell anybody that I won” you promised him with a teasing smirk on your face, as you finally managed to slip away from his hold, although you had to admit that it was definitely less warm than Ivar’s arms, who simply pouted at you.

“… I let you win” he stated, with a stubborn look, as you simply showed him your tongue, making him crack a laugh “… ok ok, I’ll let you go, but give me a kiss first”.

“Say ‘please’ ” it was almost natural, the banter between you, and Ivar shot you a quick look, before he added:

“… give me a kiss, please” and you did.

You leaned in, being the first one that initiated the kiss between you, and it was tender, as Ivar this time was mindful of his tongue, preferring to suck on your upper lip and then bottom one, before you tried something, something that you had solely read about: you bit his lower lip, dragging it through your teeth, as you moved away from the kiss.

Ivar growled and soon he was yanking on your hands, not delicately in the slightest, but you found yourself not caring at all, when he returned the favor, biting you back, although his hold didn’t bruise, but it certainly made you moan softly.

And then he was away from you, your own punishment for having chastised him away quickly this morning, having denied him.

“… don’t you have somewhere to be?” he teased you, as you shot him annoyed look, but eventually moved out of the bed.

“You are impossible” you retorted, but before you turned completely, you saw the way his eyes flickered with interest for you.

“Don’t spend your entire dowry my wife” he commented, staying in bed like a playful cat, as he stared up at you.

“Fear not, husband” you replied tightly, as you moved to the chair in front of your private desk, brushing away your hair, and you adjusted back the few jewels you had started wearing, gently opening the tent to tell the awaiting handmaidens, Arabella and Angelika, that morning, to wait a few more minutes, giving Ivar the chance to hide in his private alcove, and set himself up.

You got ready quickly almost on your own, since you hadn’t chosen a particularly complex dress, knowing that you’d have to try another one on, so you settled for a simple cream-colored gown, with golden accents, but nothing that was too tight.

Although the fabric was rich, since you had to meet up with Alexander, having finished the letter, meanwhile Angelika adjusted your hair (she was strangely good at it) and Arabella made you choose which essence to wear on your skin, it wasn’t one of your most luxurious dress.

You had pushed it into Arabella’s hands, assuring her to give it to one of the guards for Alexander, hoping that they wouldn’t read what was inside, although you hadn’t written anything scandalous.

Once you were ready to go, Ivar exited his own private quarters, revealing that he had bathed himself, and was again pushing himself in the braces, adjusting them on his own.

“… I am leaving and I’ll be back again for dinner time” you saluted him, coming closer to him, till you were face to face, and he pushed a light kiss on your hands “… have a blessed day, Ivar”.

“You as well, lovely one”.

You blushed, before you moved with the two girls on your tail, Angelika again shooting you a knowing look, meanwhile Arabella moved to send the letter out.

You moved to Hilde’s shop, the small woman welcoming you eagerly, as the handmaidens slowly appeared, all knowing the hour to meet you at the stop, as quite the crowd gathered around.

“My queen, you look more beautiful each day passing” Hilde bowed to you, as you ushered her to stand, denying her words gently, but accepting her compliments “… and you certainly do not lack of a loyal entourage”.

“… and they are all excited to try on your dresses” you commented excitedly, as the woman quickly moved to look at the other girls, as if she was searching what might fit them more.

“Oh yes, I know” she commented, as she moved to look up at you “… I saw in my dreams a flock of swans coming to my lake, and I knew that you wouldn’t have been alone today, sweetheart”.

You blushed at the affectionate comment, before Hilde moved away from to you, to examine each girl, as they reacted strangely meanwhile the smaller Nordic woman went past them, pulling on their hair or grabbing their hands to see the inside of it, muttering things such as ‘royal blue would suit’ or ‘green eyes for a golden gown’.

You smiled, feeling a bit at ease seeing your handmaidens starting to chat among each other, almost as if nothing had changed from their courtly life.

Almost as if they had settled in, like you.

You were quickly distracted, finding yourself to think that although you had been damnably scared by the Viking life, you were slowly growing into it, with their loose dress and most importantly… pants.

Although you were still uneasy about the entire ‘godly parts’, mostly their rituals.

Talking with Ivar during dinner last night, you had discovered that they’d be offering a sacrifice to the gods, that to your honor would have been an animal and not a human.

The sole thought of a human being sacrificed made your stomach turn around, and you were grateful you hadn’t done breakfast, hoping to eat something at the small market in the settlement.

Thankfully your head was pushed away from this by Hilde’s hands, grabbing onto yours with a tight grip, as she dragged inside her small tent, getting a piece of fabric down from a metal hanger in the semi-darkness of the tent, allowing a bit of privacy as she closed the tent behind herself.

A clear invite to try on the dress, which you found quite difficult to fit on your body, unused to this shape, and when you got out, all your handmaidens came around you, Angelika and Arabella barely holding back a laugh, meanwhile Caryn moved to adjust it alongside Lia.

Solveig, instead, lightly combed your messed-up hair with her wrinkly fingers, laughing at you, and when you were halfway settled, you turned to look at yourself in the small mirror outside of her tent, and… blushed.

The dress was of a deep purplish red, the color of royalty, set up on your middle with a golden belt, that tightened the dress, although it was left lightly puffy on the chest, in asymmetric cut that resembled the many dresses you had seen in the pictures of books about ancient Greece.

The lower part wasn’t tight but held a slit to allow you a more comfortable walk, but also exposing so much skin that you weren’t exactly sure would have been thought to be appropriate.

And it made your nervous.

It was beautiful.

But you had never worn anything like this.

And you weren’t sure it fitted you, rightfully.

Although it highlighted perfectly your body, you weren’t sure you had been able to bring justice to it.

“… Hilde it is beautiful” you commented softly, as you turned to her, who smiled at you”…but I am not sure… I mean… I am not sure it is made for me”.

Hilde had seemed shocked and almost offended, and you had immediately tried to explain to her why you didn’t feel like this dress belonged to you, although it was one of the most beautiful you had ever worn.

“… my queen” called out to you Hilde, with her usual emphasis on your title-that-wasn’t-yet-your-title “… I see insecurity in your own body, your eyes tell me that you aren’t used, but you have nothing to hide. You shine with beauty inside and out”.

You couldn’t help but be taken back by that comment, although you weren’t fully convinced, looking at yourself again in the mirror and noticing every little flaw of your body, as you had always done.

“… the crazy tailor is right” commented Angelika in English, making you blush lightly, as you were surprised by her words “… I hate to admit it, but you are prettier than me in that dress”.

“Girls! Check her temperature!” you joked to try to shimmer away the blush you felt on your cheeks “… she must be sick for what she is saying”.

“… but you look very very pretty, princess (Y/N)!” commented one of the youngest handmaidens, making you smile, as you bowed lightly.

“Believe me that dress fit you perfectly, girlie” added Solveig, adjusting the dress so that it could flow around you more perfectly “… many years to adjust dresses and I know when one just is… the one”.

“Ok ok” you ended up saying, unable to think of another way to refuse the gentle women “… I’ll take it”.

A chorus of laughter and mumbles of assent welcomed you, as Hilde then moved to offer various suggestions to the girls, as they entered her tent, leaving it as gorgeous princesses and beautiful ladies, as they commented all on the easiness of the dresses, comfortable as they twirled barefooted.

You hadn’t ever thought of being able to laugh like this, without your sister.

And suddenly something felt heavy on your chest.

Abigail and Kathleen.

What were they doing right now?

Did Kathleen know already you were safe and sound?

You’d have to suggest to Alexander to send her a letter to let her know you weren’t at risk of death anymore.

The morning soon passed in a whirlwind of fabric and you insisting to pay Hilde at least for the dresses of your beloved handmaidens, to which the woman agreed, as she clasped tight onto your hand, making you lower yourself closer to her.

‘… hard times are coming for you, my little bird’ she spoke with a tender tone, as her eyes were truthful ‘… that’s why I want you to feel like a queen, because that’s what you are, and you should never ever forget it’.

And although you had never believed this kind of thing, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, as you moved to the place where you were supposed to meet Alexander, accompanied by Eleanor and Caryn, as always keeping her promise of serving you, and although you wanted nothing more than to go back to the intimacy you had.

But it seemed impossible.

“Princess, do you think that it is proper to meet another man without prince Ivar’s approval?” asked softly Eleanor, the more demure of your handmaidens, with soft hips and an amber gaze, and although you cherished her sweetness, you shot her a slight look, before you commented.

“… if you won’t say anything, I won’t either”.

And Caryn’s eyes spoke of a complicity that you recognized.

And hope wouldn’t be mistaken.

You knew that asking Ivar Ivar’s permission would have been as useful as trying to make a hole in the water, and that if you hadn’t done this, Alexander would have thought that you were still under the influence of Ivar, and he would have prolonged his staying here.

And as much as it didn’t weigh on you, it certainly did weigh on your reputation among the Vikings.

And Alexander’s staying was damnably painful.

It reminded you of past times, of different times that wouldn’t have ever come again.

Thankfully Alexander was a gentleman and didn’t make you wait, as your handmaidens moved to adjust everything to leave you a bit of privacy, and your best friend courtly bowed to you, kissing your hand, as he took in your curious appearance.

“… might I say that I haven’t still wrapped my mind around the Viking fashion?” he commented making you laugh light and blush painfully as you felt inadequate in your dress “… yesterday you wore pants”.

“They are comfortable” you tried protesting “… but we aren’t here to talk about me”.

“We are, I mean… I was sent to see if you were in brilliant shape which I might confirm” he commented dashingly “… you look beautiful, my princess”.

A slight blush spread on your cheeks, but nothing in you fluttered the way it did when Ivar gave you a compliment, to prove further the fact that you didn’t feel anything anymore for Alexander.

“… I am happy of this” you replied “… they treat me well, they haven’t hurt me”.

“You have been involved in a conspiration because of your husband!” he tried to shout, as you shot him an apologetic look.

“:.. wouldn’t it have happened also if I had remained in court?” you shot back, knowingly, as Alexander lightly hung his head between his shoulders as if he had been defeated.

“That’s why I told my father that I won’t take on his role till he dies…” he mumbled, as his eyes shot away from you and onto the land that bordered the Viking settlements “… I don’t want to be corrupted by any of that…”.

“… shit?” you tempted him, as this time it was his cheeks that blushed lightly.

“They corrupted you”.

“Actually… Kathleen taught me that” you replied, as he shot you an even more surprised look.

“Oh Gosh, have I missed you princess (Y/N)”.

* * *

The lunch had been quite satisfying and you had been glad to spend some time with Alexander, although the notion that he’d go back to England, and that you’d stay here was almost painful.

Training and the harmless chatter among your handmaidens felt comfortable to forget, but when you were left alone to wait for Ivar, who planned your return to Kattegat with his brothers, bad thoughts crowded your mind.

Not even your beloved books could satisfy you, and you were left to do nothing more than think about what would have happened if anything had happened to you once all of this was over and how guilty you felt at betraying Ivar, although you were doing it for the greater good.

Or at least this is what you said.

You were readjusting yourself on the bed for the fifth time, after you had sent both Turid and Solveig away, although the latter had made a small herb brewing to ease your soul.

Turid, instead, had been a quite peaceful presence, although you had started learning her way of communicate her needs, mostly noticing the way her eyes would follow lingering closer prince Hvitserk, when he came to eat with you in your tent.

And you had the good thought to tell him to keep his hands to himself, if he wanted to keep them.

Ivar caught you in a rather awkward position trying to read, as he walked in, unable to withhold a small smirk, as you readjusted with your cheeks full of red blush, trying to shimmer away the attention, telling him that Hvitserk had dropped some dinner also for him…

… hadn’t he decided to steal it, at the last minute.

‘… what a thoughtful thing’ he commented, joining you on bed, as you scrunched your nose to tell him not to drop anything on the clean sheets, since as much as you wouldn’t be the one changing them, you didn’t like to use Solveig or Turid more than necessary.

They had also had a dress, although both had insisted against it, saying they were low thralls born in slavery who had both grown up with nothing as precious as the dresses, but you couldn’t deny that they were part of the familiar group you had been slowly creating.

Turid with her comforting presence and Solveig with wisdom.

“… I’ll be careful” he commented softly, a light shiver going down your spine at that scruffy mumble “… but is everything alright with you?”.

“Just too many thoughts in my little head” you mumbled, softly, meanwhile Ivar basically ate the whole piece of meat in one bite, turning to you at that affirmation, as you moved to come to his side.

“… your head isn’t little, I think it is quite the contrary” he replied, gently kissing it, once he cleared his mouth ruthlessly on his dirty tunic, and you giggled scooting away, although the gesture had been quite welcome “… but that can be a curse, because it does indeed open us to too many thoughts and it is tiring”.

“You can say that”.

“Can I help you with your thoughts?” spoke tightly Ivar, as his eyes looked at you as if he wanted to know them but knew not to step further on your boundaries.

“I don’t think that there is much that will help me” you muttered sadly, leaning lightly your hand on his shoulder “… do you know something that might make me think about everything else than what is stuck in my mind”.

“… I might have a few ideas” and a few moments after you were set in front of a chess board, one of the many gifts that your father had brought to Ivar for your hand in marriage.

The figures were refinished but also long-lasting, as you examined through your fingers, meanwhile Ivar started to explain you the game and you felt the utter satisfaction of tell him that ‘you did know how to play’.

‘Who taught you?’ he had asked, meanwhile he adjusted the pieces on the board, him being the black ones and you the white ones,

‘Nobody, except myself. My father would have me and my sisters in the same room with him, meanwhile he played it, and I slowly took in his playing and strategies’.

What you were less happy was the fact that Ivar played much more brilliantly than your father, and soon you had two lost games on your shoulders.

‘This doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest’ you mumbled annoyedly, meanwhile Ivar set up the board again, laughing at your comment ‘… you should let me win’

“… that wouldn’t make it very fair”.

“But it would make me feel better”.

He laughed, before leaning in and pecking softly your lips, for the first time without you asking or igniting the kiss, something that made you cherish its sweetness and the comfortable way he was starting to make you feel around him.

“… just focus a bit more”.

And you did, trying to focus on the strategy that Ivar used, since although he was brilliant, his schemes were recurring and you had to break them, playing dirty as you smirked at Ivar, lowering lightly one sleeve of your nightgown, adjusting it meanwhile Ivar lost his bishop.

And then his king.

He looked displeased of having lost, but it didn’t take him long to calm himself, as he saw the sweet smile that appeared on your lips, and you had to admit that your mind was a bit less clouded, as you asked him again to play another game.

‘… I am feeling giddy over having won the great Ivar The Boneless, now you can’t seriously expect me to go to sleep’.

And you had played till very deep in the night, enough that you had both fall asleep on the board, risking a few pieces falling down the bed as you woke up with your back aching but strangely relaxed, Ivar’s hands having drifted gently onto yours, almost touching.

“… if anybody asks…” he muttered, before you both dove under the covers “… we slept like this because we were both tired and not because we spent the entire night playing chess”.

“Understood, my prince” you commented, finishing the deal with a soft kiss on his cheek, as he blushed, laughing lightly “… we could have breakfast in bed, I’ll just have to tell Turid, if you want to readjust the covers in the meanwhile…”.

“That seems lovely” he commented, before his gaze caught onto you “… you are lovely”.

“I doubt it” you moved away, to hide your blushing cheeks, meanwhile Ivar instead brought you closer to him, pushing you onto his laps, as you immediately hid your face between your fingers.

“… you look beautiful” he tried to push your hands away, meanwhile he brought you closer “… (Y/N) the Lovely, that’s what they should call you”.

“That sounds tantalizing delightful” you commented, trying to get away from him, as suddenly your mind became awake with horrible thoughts, thoughts about the fact that Ivar didn’t know that your beauty was nothing but a front.

Whatever he found beautiful in you, would have been his damnation.

“You are tantalizing delightful” he said it in English, making you tremble at his thick accent, before he let you up, a slight blush on his own face, as you felt his lower body against you, a sensation that made you giddy, but you quickly set up to your own mission, meanwhile Ivar did his.

You covered yourself with a thick woolen mantle, not trying to think about the sinful way you had almost wanted Ivar a few minutes ago, but you honestly should stop, if not for yourself, for some correctness for him, who seemed thoroughly enamored with you.

And he was starting to like you for you.

And it was a beautiful sensation for somebody who had never had something like that, but you felt like you were leeching on that love.

And it pained you.

Turid was already awake and was more than happy to steal a few sweets from you, meanwhile Solveig gave a few orders around, mostly because Hilde had sent the dresses and they had to be adjusted and brought to its rightful owner.

You were glad to help her a bit, not fully knowing why you didn’t feel comfortable approaching Ivar yet, not after your small dialogue.

“… slept well, my lady?” piped in Angelika, strangely already awake, as she set beside you and Solveig.

“Heavenly” you muttered, hissing through your teeth.

“… you should learn when to speak and when to keep your mouth closed” muttered in Norse Solveig, getting surprised when Angelika shot her an annoyed look, obviously annoyed and completely understanding what the Viking thrall said.

“And you that I can completely understand you” retorted Angelika with the fakest smile, as Solveig shot her one poisonous of her own, something that made you move between them, before things could escalate.

“… calm down” you commented to both “… it is just morning”.

“It is never too early for anything” Angelika replied, before moving away, as Lia came to get her in an attempt to avoid any fights, for which you were thankful “… and I am joining you this afternoon, for the training”.

She said it almost as if she was the leader, the princess of the castle, and you were able to simply nod.

You were almost thankful when Turid came back with the breakfast, warning Solveig to avoid Angelika, as the old woman simply shot you another look as if to say that ‘she had handled worse’.

You moved back in the tent, surprised not to see Ivar, but you quickly heard water splashing, as your private bathroom was lightly closed by the rough piece of fabric that divided it from the rest of the tent, thick enough to hide from the gaze.

But not from the ears of others.

In fact, you heard a few grumbles, that became suddenly more animalistic gruntles, something that made you question whether Ivar was hurt, as you lightly called out his name, the noises from the bathroom completely disappearing.

Ivar replied tightly, his voice slightly high and feminine, as he invited you to start eating without me.

‘Just leave me something, little beastie’.

‘Don’t even try’ you replied, forgetting quickly about the strange behavior of Ivar, simply thinking that he was bathing, and the grumbles and grunts were due to his strain in moving around the bathtub.

On his most tired days, he’d need also help.

It was confirmed as Ivar came back, his hair lightly wet, as he slithered around the bed, since he hadn’t worn his braces, to come up to you, raising himself onto the bed, solely through the help of his arm, a show that made you hot and bothered, as you blushed at that wondrous sight.

“… did I ruin your appetite?” mumbled grumpily Ivar, as he saw that you had stopped eating to observe him, something that made you almost choke on what you were eating “… well that is the most dramatic reaction I ever got”.

But he gently offered you ale, that you refused, and once you were able to breath without tasting the sweet in your nose, you moved to softly lean in, closer to him, reassuring him physically that he didn’t disgust you, since you were slowly starting to understand that with him anything physical was more effective than words.

“I was actually admiring you” you commented coyly, seeing a slight blush appear on his cheeks.

“… admiring me?”.

“Yes” you nodded softly, as you took one of the sweets, and moved to feed it to Ivar, who seemed an hungry and curious beast, looking at you with smart eyes, as you moved to gently slip the sweet past his plump lips “… you must have noticed that I might have a slight fascination with your muscles”.

“You do?” there was genuine surprise in his eyes, as you lightly retreated the sugary treats from his lips, before they could wrap around it.

“… I do” you were now suddenly the one all blushy.

And Ivar looked all smug about it, as he moved to softly bit onto the treat in your hand, but you quickly moved it away from him, before pushing it onto your mouth.

He shot you an offended look and then he turned to you and before you knew it, he pushed you down the bed, playfully, properly pinning you down, as you laughed softly, but were quickly shut up by Ivar kissing you.

And he chased the taste of the sweet in your mouth, as you laughed softly, at the affection.

“… you are an hungry minx” he commented, as he grabbed a sweet, meanwhile you were too taken aback by the kiss to properly react like a human creature “… but I am glad you like my muscles”.

“Don’t push it” you muttered, knowing that you had dug your own tomb.

“Oh, I will” he replied, kissing your forehead “… I’ll walk shirtless simply for the pleasure of teasing you princess”.

“That’d definitely help me with my bad thoughts”.

You both erupted in laughter, as you exchanged sweets and kisses.

And then Ivar left you, surprising you one last time, as he told you that he had taken it upon himself to invite Alexander over for dinner, which surprised you, but Ivar simply told you that it was better ‘to keep your enemies closer’.

And although you were glad that you hadn’t to undergo anything unknown to Ivar to see your friend, you had a bad feeling about it.

But you didn’t say much more to Ivar, as you said your ‘goodbyes’ to him with a soft kiss, that Ivar deepened dirtily, making you moan softly, something that brought a beautiful color on your cheeks.

That Hvitserk noticed immediately as he come to lounge in your tent, in a vague attempt of stealing the leftovers of your breakfast with Ivar.

‘… you got the hots for my brother, don’t you?’ he commented, before he seemed to rethink over the words he had said ‘… I never thought I’d say that’.

“Then don’t say it” you mumbled, trying to appear busy as you wrote letters to your sisters, hoping that Alexander could bring them to their recipients “… don’t stick your nose in my business or…”.

“… or you’ll curse me, I know… I know” he muttered under his breath “… it is just that… I haven’t seen Ivar this happy in… so much… since…”.

“… since what?” you asked, your spying personality finally coming up as your ears peaked up, although your father’s own purposes were quite away from your own, in that moment, and you wanted to know it all just to make you understand more Ivar.

As a lover would do.

“… since our mother’s death” Hvitserk’s growl let out much more emotion than his eyes did, a tight smirk replacing his usual open smile “… he hasn’t thought about much else than his revenge, actually”.

“Revenge?” you felt almost dumbfounded discovering all of this “… on who?”.

You couldn’t help but feel a shrill of worry and fear, as if you were suddenly travelling in unknown territory and you weren’t sure to have the means to exit it.

“… on Lagertha, our mother’s murderer” he explained, almost as if it was a bitter bite, too much for him, sadly “… Ivar took it at heart especially, he and our mother, Aslaug had a close bond”.

“I am sorry for your loss, still” you commented softly, as you moved a hand to grip on Hvitserk’s one, who simply smirked sadly at you, exiting quickly your hold on his hand.

“It didn’t… it didn’t affect me as much as it affected Ivar” he simply justified it “… to me his crazy plan to get revenge is… crazy, indeed”.

You couldn’t help but see uneasiness and eagerness in Hvitserk’s eyes, almost as if he hadn’t ever been asked his opinion about this, and at the same time he ached for it, in a way that made everything unsolved.

“Christians frown upon revenge” you said, softly “… but I lost a mother and although revenge wouldn’t bring her back, I sometimes… I do understand why Ivar feels like that”

You knew that this was a deep confession for you, since you had never dared to admit your feelings against your father to anybody.

You knew that although he hadn’t killed your mother, his constant beatings had made her frail health even more at danger, and then one day they had been too much.

And your mother laid lifeless, white as a lily on her bed.

And you had cried your heart out.

Also fear had always shone in your eyes, and it had been confessed to your sisters, but you had never commented the anger against your father that brew inside of you, and suddenly was let out, as Hvitserk sent you a small surprised look, before you shook the bad feeling away from your face, feigning again innocence.

“… it is just that sometimes Ivar can be extreme”.

“On that I agree”.

“… is he also extreme in bed?” Hvitserk lightly wiggled his eyebrows, as you elbowed him, something that stole the breath away from the young boy.

“Why are you all so noisy?”.

“Because you are the wife of a prince” he smirked, before assuming a royal tone “… your own life doesn’t belong to you anymore, but to the people”.

“… that seems utter bullshit” your profanity made Hvitserk shoot a surprised look at your profanity “… I learned from the best”.

“I can’t believe that you think I am the best at something” Hvitserk crooked a soft a smile at you “… but this won’t avoid a talk about all the things that could embarrass my brother”.

“… you should stop doing that” the mutter left your mouth, and your brother-in-law looked at you confusedly “… trying to embarrass Ivar”.

“It is just brotherly teasing” he almost seemed annoyed by your noisy invasion.

“… not it isn’t” you commented tightly, because although you didn’t want to annoy Hvitserk “… I have sisters, and although you think that we, women, are tamer than you, believe me we are as ruthless as males if not more… and we don’t… sometimes with Ivar you seem a bit too mean”.

“… you don’t know him” Hvitserk’s anger shine his own words, and you knew that you should have kept your mouth shut.

“… I just know that it should be teasing and not anger” you commented and Hvitserk’s eyes lowered, almost admitting that you were right “… but what can I know, I am simply a stupid woman”.

That’s what your father would have told you.

But Hvitserk simply grabbed your hand this time.

“… you are a blessing, princess”.

* * *

The rest of the day had slowly moved itself in a monotonous pace, something that had made the dinner the most interesting part of the day, but as soon as Alexander moved in, completely closed off, you found yourself revaluing your excitedness.

‘Come, lord Alexander, or at least that is the title that my wife told me you own…’ commented Ivar, with a snobby smirk that made you also uneasy, and you shot him a light look to tell him to be ‘nice’ ‘… sit beside us, it’ll be our honor’.

Alexander hadn’t reacted in a better way, nodding as he bowed to you, but not to any of the brothers, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar and Ubbe, both grimacing, meanwhile Bjorn looked too drunk for it as he talked with Halfdan and Hvitserk was already staring at a few of his ‘victims’ of the night.

You welcomed Alexander with an attentive mind, as he complimented your choice of dress, a deep maroon one, bordering with red, and lined with argent details, something that gave you a mature look, definitely more Saxon.

“… are you having a nice staying?” you asked softly, as you turned to Alexander, knowing that not many would approach him and that Ivar had already started a conversation with Ubbe, in Norse, probably talking shit about Alexander, if you were understanding right.

“I am, and the men are used to worse” joked Alexander “… the settlements seem… truly a work of art or… of the Devil”.

“That’s because you haven’t seen the marketplace” you commented gingerly, gaining an amazed look from Alexander “… I told you: they might be Vikings but they aren’t heathens”.

“And silly me who thought they were the same thing”.

The dinner continued among your chatters and your soft laughs, as Ivar sometimes would gently grip your hair or rub your thigh over your dress, almost a confirmation that you were still there.

That you were with him, beside him.

And you would answer, turning for a sweet smile solely for him.

And Alexander would roll his eyes.

But what got truly a reaction from him was when you revealed to him why you would be hosting celebrations, for the lands that you had given up on Ivar, as his eyes showed true offense.

“… why did you?!”.

“It’s no big deal, Alexander” you replied, trying to calm him down, meanwhile you saw heads turning to you and since your popularity rate was negative, you tried to avoid a scene “… he told he’ll give me back those lands”.

“… your lands, exactly!” he shouted, and Ivar behind you stiffened, his hand tightening around the knife on his side, and you comforted him with a quick look, as you invited Alexander out, your tight and strong tone surprising him enough that when realization kicked in, you were already out.

“You don’t understand Alexander” you commented once you were out of earshot “… I did this to keep you protected”.

“I should be the one doing it” also his tone was a bright hiss “… and I have been failing miserably at it”.

“I don’t need protecting” you replied tightly, surprised at those words, because had Alexander uttered the same words a few years ago you would have fallen in his arms.

But you had undergone so much that you felt numb.

And that you knew you could handle yourself.

Although it was ungrateful.

But Alexander’s behavior was out of line, completely.

“… it doesn’t seem so” his tone surprised you, because although you knew that Alexander could be arrogant, his tone now was down right derisive “… you have been involved in a conspiration and you have had to give up on lands that belonged to you by birthright”.

“But I am still alive!” you shouted, in exasperation, as he backed away from you “… it might seem idiotic, but let me tell you… I have survived so much that I know how to take care of myself”.

You hadn’t ever been that knowing of your willingness to live as in that moment.

And you had never felt that strong as in that moment.

And you looked like it straightening up your back.

You weren’t a pawn in this game anymore.

Since the conspiracy had set a target on your head, you had taken a more active role.

And you wouldn’t relent it.

“My father will probably has explained you why I am here truly…” you whispered lightly, trying not to be heard, although only night was around you “… he bargained my life with the devil. And let me tell you that I thought I’d have been destroyed, but I am here, I am still here”.

This was your own kingdom and you wouldn’t relent the crown easily, although you knew your role and you’d follow your father’s orders, but you wouldn’t tolerate the prejudices and prohibitions everyone around you gave you.

And then suddenly, before you could register his movements, Alexander was onto you.

He was kissing you.

And you were too surprised to react properly.

But something settled in you.

Dreariness of having been forced in the act, that made you immediately push away your old best friend, as you would have done with an attacker, focusing on the strength of your arms hitting him on the chest with your elbows, since he was stronger than you.

And then you felt free.

For the rest operated his surprise.

And soon he was off you.

And you couldn’t deny your surprise

As a feeling of hollowness settled on your stomach.

It was matched by the disgust on your lips at such a gesture, something that seemed more an arrogant claiming of you than a true kiss.

And you didn’t belong to anybody.

“… what?” you asked him, as you brought a hand to your lips, wondering whether it had happened or not, but the look of pure hurt on Alexander confirmed that he had indeed kissed you “… we can’t”.

“We could run away” now his eyes moved into an almost manic state, something that made you nervous “… we could run away and hide in my own lands”.

“We can’t” this time you weren’t hesitant and neither merciful “… we would be caught and believe me I just can’t leave now…”.

“… you don’t have to be your father’s spy” Alexander promised you “… this isn’t something that you have to do anymore, don’t you understand it? We can live in freedom”.

“As long as my father lives, there won’t be any freedom for me” your eyebrows furrowed annoyedly at the fact that Alexander just couldn’t understand.

You didn’t belong to anybody, but your body followed your father’s orders still.

But there was more behind it.

You didn’t want Alexander.

You weren’t in love with him.

And it wasn’t something you could fake.

“You have changed” his tone seemed almost a bittersweet reprimand “… before I left for Ireland, you wouldn’t have thought about running away with me”.

And as much as your words hurt you, you felt like they were the most appropriate.

“Before you left Ireland, I was in love with you”.

Before Ireland had been an era away.

If you had thought that entire years had passed since you had last been in England, among Saxons, and it was enough to change you completely.

But the truth is that you hadn’t changed much.

You had just scraped away the convictions and insecurities that had kept you tame.

Those words shocked Alexander, and this time he was the one who pushed himself away from you, shooting you a tight look, almost wounded, but you couldn’t live in a lie, even more when your heart was steering towards Ivar, although it shouldn’t.

You had to admit that you felt guilty for the kiss you had briefly shared with Alexander although it was unwanted.

“… and you aren’t anymore” he almost seemed heartbroken, as he got back from that angry stupor.

“I don’t think that it was love from the start” your voice were almost cutting in your own mouth “… and I know that you didn’t love me back then, we were simply good friends, and I had a crush on you, but you chased somebody else’s skirt”.

“You are bitter because I didn’t notice you back then?” his tone seemed almost spiteful, almost as insult for you.

“No, no” you spat back “… you did break my heart, but this doesn’t mean that I am trying to make you pay for it. I just… this isn’t… this isn’t anything personal, but my heart isn’t yours”.

“Is it that heathen’s?” this time his words were straight up insult, as he spat on the ground between your feet, making you tremble on your place “… I hope you won’t cry when he stabs you in the back”.

“Wife?” Ivar appeared behind the flap of the tent, right on time, as you shook your head to push back tears, walking across Alexander as you shot him a quick look “… is everything alright?”.

“I am just tired, me and Alexander have talked about important matters…” and you turned lightly at Alexander as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut “… thoughts that made me nostalgic”.

“Then I’ll lead you back to our tent” Ivar clashed his teeth together, as he sent a sour look at Alexander, as if he wanted to punish him for having made you sad, and Alexander withheld his gaze, and for a moment you thought there would be a blown out fight “… let’s go”.

You were glad to follow Ivar, feeling a horrible sensation in your chest due to Alexander’s words.

They made you feel like a traitor.

But you knew you were right.

You couldn’t reciprocate his feelings and it wouldn’t have been right for him to fake them.

Even more when he wanted a life that you couldn’t give to him.

“You look truly troubled” mumbled tightly Ivar, as he saw you dropping without too many ceremonies on your shared bed, his eyes following you attentively and you tried to shift away all those bad emotions, for a tight smile.

“I just miss my sisters and Alexander reminded me of them” you faked, although your tone sounded honest, since it had been something that you had been thinking lately, the date of your departure coming closer and closer.

Alongside whether your father would have acted before Ivar’s departure or he would have let you go away, in a new land, that was unknown to you.

“… you could visit them one day” Ivar’s words were careful, but meaningful and they surprised you, as you raised lightly to look at him in the eyes, to see if he had spoken the truth “… I know that you’ll miss them when we’ll be in Kattegat. We could visit the castle,or they could come here”.

“That’d ease my mind greatly” you replied softly “… thank you”.

Ivar’s lips gently blessed your forehead, before he went to change.

“… of course, they are your family, after all”.

And that was the last thing that you had heard before a quite slumber took you.

* * *

The following day had been intense, something that you had been grateful since this meant that you didn’t have to overthink Alexander’s words and that feeling of guilt you had in your chest.

You almost understood why Hilde had blessed you with that dress.

You were feeling truly shitty.

So, you were thankful when during the middle of the afternoon your handmaidens and you started getting ready for the feast, the girls all twirling in their dresses, once they had ruthlessly pushed both Ivar and Hvitserk away.

A few took care of your hair, making sure that the crown Ivar had gifted you shone in them, meanwhile others adjusted you in the dress.

You had allowed the handmaidens to borrow some of your jewels, and you had almost risked your arms being cut off when you opened the box with your most precious jewels, eventually settling up on one for each girls, trying to avoid fights.

It felt almost as your own court, with no envy and no injustices, no fear and no ignorance.

It almost made you feel pride for what you had done.

In the end you had chosen to wear the dress Hilde had gifted you, almost as a reaction to Alexander’s hateful words.

The dress would be your smart rebellion.

And as you shot one last look, once your hair was pushed up around the crown, meanwhile you wore the dress, matching it with deep rubies earrings, that brought attention to your face, giving it a clean look exposing every detail of your body, as Angelika reddened your cheeks with some natural color and Caryn highlighted with expertise your eyes with a bit of kajal.

Angelika wore a royal blue gown, which you found quite fitting for the royal-looking girl, sporting a necklace with a small sapphire at its center, bringing attention to her cleavage.

Meanwhile Caryn’s dress was light almost white, highlighting the darkness of her precious skin, in a contrast that would have blinded any man, hadn’t her beauty blinded them first, matched with a collier of silver gold.

You looked like a mix between heathens and Saxons, in something that you felt didn’t fail to represent the duality of your nature.

And you felt almost good, as you exited your tent, right in time to take part in the sacrifice, with a fur mantle on your dress, hiding it completely since that night was cold and wet, as your handmaidens scurried behind you, Solveig grabbing the light train of your dress to avoid it dirtying.

First of all, you knew that there’d be the ritual sacrifice, which would happen outside and then the dinner would happen, something that you were honestly looking forward, but for the entire ritual sacrifice, you stood by Ivar’s side, trying to keep your eyes on the killing of an innocent animal.

You already felt sick to your stomach as you witnessed that.

The killing of a human wouldn’t have been something that you could stand, but you took one step at the time.

Your eyes moved around searching for Alexander almost scared to face him again, but you knew that there’d be no Saxons, at least for the ritual.

They’d join you on the dinner, and you almost hoped that Alexander wouldn’t be there, because you didn’t know what to say, how to approach him.

Had you been the previous princess, the one that desperately strived to satisfy everyone, you would have apologized.

But now the words were rough on your tongue.

Ivar’s clutched your hand as he felt you wavering away and you simply nodded at him, as the sacrifice was finished and the priestess, the same one who had officiated your marriage, moved to deck blood onto all the brothers, starting from Bjorn and moving onto Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar.

And you, as she stained your forehead with the blood, then lightly dipping some on your mouth, something for which you had to hold back vomit, but you did gratefully bow at the priestess, who also stained with the blood your furs, right onto your belly.

‘… next month may you not bleed, my princess’ she spoke and she bowed, before moving away, Ivar and you blushing lightly at the implication, but Ivar also mumbled a few thankful words, and then you moved inside, Ivar disappearing from your side, as Hvitserk brought him away, and Bjorn took your husband’s place, guiding you towards the Great Hall.

Thankfully Angelika wasn’t much behind you and Caryn was at her side, Turid trailing after them, something that made you feel more comfortable as you moved in the already full, main hall, many people setting their eyes on top of you and Bjorn moved inside, with you by his side, making idle conversation.

‘How are you finding yourself, here?’

‘Well, then I hope that you’ll say the same in Kattegat’.

‘Does your husband have any intension to overthrow my mother?’.

You feigned innocence at the last question, glad that you had reached your seats, your handmaidens, waiting to take off your fur.

You were thoroughly surprised that Bjorn had been so direct, even more when he had been so disinterested in you.

But you had learned better from your awful experience with Halfdan.

You had your barriers up this time.

“… does it look like Ivar involves me in his plans?” you commented harshly, trying to tell Bjorn to ‘mind his own business’ and ‘back off’, something that took him back, probably since he was used to women smiling their way into his pants “… and even if I knew, why would I tell you?”.

“Because you care to survive” he spoke, his tongue cutting but his eyes unfocused as if you weren’t anything else than a body, and you were happy not to have shed your fur yet “… Ivar won’t win against my mother, believe me, and I do know that you are smart enough to want to survive”.

“Maybe you overvalued me, prince Bjorn” you commented softly, appearing tamed, as you remembered what Nanna had taught you about attacking others, as your eyes became sharper “… and how can you be so sure that it’ll be your mother who’ll win?”.

‘Always hit where it hurts the most’.

And with that you turned around, facing a smirking Angelika, meanwhile Caryn gently pushed your fur off your shoulder, as Turid untangled the bow at your neck, and soon you were simply in your dress in front of the blonde prince, his eyes following every line of fabric as you turned around to face him again with a small smirk.

And then you moved to take your seat, as Bjorn set himself beside you, muttering a simple ‘lucky bastard’ and you couldn’t but smirk as you turned to Caryn, Turid and Angelika, who were at a different but not-too-distant table.

They all smirked brightly at you, proudly, as they exchanged laugh and you almost wished that you could damn etiquette and join them, feeling at unease without a familiar face by your side.

Even more when your eyes caught glimpses of Alexander not too far away, his eyes ignoring you, as they settled on the cup of ale in front of him.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem to hate that beverage anymore.

Nanna came onto your table to chat with you and with the side of your eye, you caught Angelika looking at her with interest and a questioning look and you shot her a devilish look of your own, the other woman simply shaking her head annoyedly.

And then Ivar appeared on the threshold, moving closer to you, who raised up to welcome him.

And to show him your dress.

As you did, the room went quickly silent, as everybody’s eyes were suddenly onto you.

And you didn’t know whether it was for the beautiful dress or for the way your crown caught onto light, coming to live.

Or whether it was for you.

For a moment you almost thought it was for you.

The excitement of the crowd quickly thrumming in your veins, as your eyes set up on Ivar’s surprised face, before a smirk came on his own face, his eyes were fixed on you, genuinely looking at you as if you were the most beautiful spectacle of nature.

And then he was in front of you, separated simply by a table, as you gently bowed your head at him, but he held your chin between his fingers to keep your face up, as he stared in your eyes.

“Apparently Freya blessed us with an appearance” his smirk was playful, and hadn’t you been in public you would have very much liked to kiss it off.

“My prince you make me blush with your compliments” you commented softly, moving to gently grab onto his hand, as he smiled back, kissing your forehead.

He then sat beside you, the entire room having been silent the entire time, as eyes looked at you, no glares or bad eyes, but simply glances of curiosity to the wife of their youngest prince.

The one they thought they’d never see smile at a woman, like that.

You were the unified front that your deal had wanted.

He settled himself down beside you, as soon as he could, walking with a fierceness that made you laugh, and he grabbed your hand under the table, as slowly the clatter of the room came back, helped by Hvitserk who asked ‘when dinner would be served?’.

Dinner was a whirlwind of conversations about nothing and everything, as Ivar gently caressed the back of your hand he held with his thumb and for a moment…

… for a moment you wished this moment could last for ever,

“… you do look actually more beautiful than Freya” commented Ivar in your ear, as he leaned in, making you blush as you shot back a small ‘flatterer’ “… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met”.

“Then you mustn’t have seen many women” you teased him, as he boldly kissed you with a light laughter “… you have a way with words, husband…”.

“… and you love it” it was a bold comment, but it was rewarded with a quite smile from you.

“That I do”.

“Prince Ivar” some soldier called out, ruining your moment.

Lightly embarrassed of your actions, you immediately pushed your stare onto your plate, as Ivar left your side to converse privately with the soldier, something that you allowed with a small kiss to his hand, as you were instead dragged away by your handmaidens to dance, something that made your feet and cheeks ache, from dancing and smiling too much.

You hadn’t had so much fun… in for ever.

Once you were tired of dancing and you made sure that all the girls had rightful partners for the next few dances, the Saxons having joined in although shyly, you sat down waiting for Ivar to come back, wanting to breath a bit and not feel the stench of sweat and beer attaching itself to your body.

And you were drinking ale, as you felt somebody sitting beside you.

Ubbe.

You recognized him as you raised your eyes to him, finally realizing that his gaze wasn’t set up on you, as he started to speak with you, but on Ivar who was talking surrounded by a few of his most trusted soldiers, from which you recognized his own private guards.

“… whatever deal is between you two, I am impressed that it is actually working” someone commented loudly, as they sit next to you, and when you turned you realized it was Ubbe, his insinuation making you blush.

“... or maybe we are simply enjoying the wedding bliss” you replied tightly, trying to match his disinterested tone “… you should know about it, Ivar told me that you have a wife”.

You knew that you had hit him, as you felt his teeth clatter together and tighten his jaw, but it was only a minute before that calm storm reappeared in his eyes, and you should have seen coming that nothing pleasant would happen next.

“I do think that it started all out as a deal between you two, I know my brother enough to know what he is like…” he commented as if he already knew all about it, but you just tried to ignore it, hating the way all this men seemed to know everything about you, thinking they could do better.

It reminded you of your father’s controlling ways.

“… but I think that somehow you are slowly falling in love with him” Ubbe’s admission was what your heart had hidden you in these days, almost since the start of your marriage with Ivar “… that’s why I want you to know this before anything gets further with my brother”.

You expected Ubbe to tell you about his plan to dethrone Lagertha or how moody Ivar can be…

But what Ubbe said next hit you so strongly.

“Ivar killed our brother, Sigurd”.

You choked on your own breath, as your eyes finally turned to Ubbe, almost expecting him to admit that it was a terrible joke, that he had played because he was jealous of Ivar’s happiness, but Ubbe looked back at you with a strong gaze, withholding your panicked look.

“… Sigurd and Ivar’s relationship wasn’t always good, but once, meanwhile we were also feasting Ivar threw an axe at Sigurd, and he hit him, he killed him”.

“Why are you telling me this” your voice was choked, and you couldn’t hide it.

“… because think what he did to his own blood, without any remorse…” Ubbe’s eyes were hungry for your pain “… you might own his heart, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t kill you if you betray him”-

Your feet moved on their own, as you got up, raising yourself so fast that for a moment you were startled, but your body seemed to know better, since it brought you out of the room, in the dizzyingly cold air of the night.

Somebody followed you.

Later you discovered it was Hvitserk and Nanna.

And Ivar.

“(Y/N)!” he called out to you, as you stopped in your steps, him coming closer to you, as he gently touched your shoulder, something that awakened a fear in you, and you moved startled away.

“… is it true?” your words were a simple tremble, a bare whisper, and Ivar looked at you not knowing what you meant “… did you seriously kill your brother?”.

Because if he did, any stupid illusion you had created in your mind broke down.

The silly thought of a life with him wouldn’t be broken by your own father’s ambitions, but by the fact that if he had murdered his brother, his own blood, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same for you.

And your love couldn’t overshadow fear in that moment.

In those days you had lost yourself in a beautiful fantasy, forgetting the harsh reality.

Alexander would have laughed loudly at this, his own prophecy coming true.

“… we can talk about it” he choked on his own words, his blue eyes hiding themselves away from yours, almost as if he was scared of your scrutiny.

And in that moment, you realized how stupid you had been.

How blind.

It didn’t take much as you looked in Ivar’s shadowed eyes to realize it was the truth.

You had lied to him, but he had also left out important pieces.

And now you were left broken.


	7. The Scheming Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is out and the heart that you gave so freely is now broken and yet your strength never falters, conjuring a dangerous plan to be finally free. But is it truly what you want.

##  _The Scheming Genius:_

_“Just when I thought I was Running out of time The King stood trembling at my bedside”_

_[“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D3QX0A1NhnVs&t=ZTE5ZDIwOTcxYTIzNjUyNTQwNmVlNGI3ZWI4MThlYTM3NWI3MTY0NyxtR1ZIT0Rpdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AdIynH8S3q5irL6t5uxUgWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhecohansen31.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190445537684%2Fto-kill-a-king-teaser&m=1) _

_Your breath came harder and harder till it choked and you lost your rhythm._

_Your legs failed under you and you were solely able to stop yourself from completely falling head first on the ground, pushing your legs towards the earth._

_You did bruise them, but you didn’t care as you brought them in your unfocused stare._

_They were dirtied and bloody._

_Not solely because you had fallen down._

_And the blood on them wasn’t solely yours._

_Still you hadn’t much time to think, as you heard male-like steps, hard and heavy on the ground, breaking twigs under their boots._

_And fear flooded your system as you reached out for a knife trying to search at your belt and then lower, on your thigh, where you remembered having strapped up a knife._

_But now it wasn’t there._

_And you realized that it was probably still in the body of the man you had stabbed._

_That certainly didn’t ease any of your fear, but your body seemed to have set itself up on either a running away or fighting stance, hence the sense of guilt for having stabbed a man etched itself in the back of your mind as you tried to move away._

_Your legs were still too weak and soon you were dragged against the cold soil again._

_And there you stayed, your nails pushing themselves in the dirt, as you tried to push yourself flush against the ground, hoping that confusing yourself with the ground would help._

_And you prayed with all your last beliefs that you would be spared._

_Your lungs constricted and before you knew it you were choking on air._

_‘Not again’ you prayed desperately, closing your eyes ‘… I don’t want to die’._

It was now day after the revelation of the previous night.

You had been accompanied by both Caryn and Lia back in your tent, the women trying to coo you in a comforting way, but you didn’t even notice it in your unresponsive state.

It was as if you had closed yourself completely from the world, in a way that left you only overthinking yourself constantly.

You felt stupid.

Which was an awful thing to feel for you, having always considered your intelligence your sole talent.

And to know that it had failed you this much, it only brought you to the realization that your father’s poisonous words were true.

‘You, stupid girl with no purpose’

They echoed, right as you saw the room in front of you deforming into something awful,: your room in the castle as figures appeared in front of you, Kathleen laying on the ground having been struck down, meanwhile Abigail knelt in front of her shaking her awake, as you pushed yourself in front of your father.

One last attempt to protect Kathleen.

But as his eyes met yours, they were daringly blue.

Ivar’s.

That was what brought you back from that horrid vision.

And then there was ruffling with your tent, as you turned to its door, finding thankfully that it was Caryn, her dark curls lightly exiting the tight hairstyle she had chosen for the day.

She looked so beautiful.

And it just reminded you of how truly cunning Ivar could be.

He had outsmarted you, once, and he would do it again.

“You look like you haven’t slept, my lady” commented Caryn, unsure, although her voice was so sweet that it broke you inside and before you knew it, sobbing escaped your chest.

“… I did” because a paralyzing deep slumber had taken you, but it hadn’t brought you neither relief neither comfort, and it was difficult for you to remember the sole dream of that night.

Which meant it wasn’t something that you wanted to remember

“… but my body wishes for a sweet dream, before it faces the reality of things”.

Caryn smiled halfheartedly, something nostalgic in her plump lips and her longing eyes, as if she knew and could understand what you felt deep down, something that only awakened rage in your body.

You had always been babied like you didn’t have a brain and the way she acted with you just brought that back.

You had always believed what others had told you.

What your own father fed you through fear and harsh teachings.

What your books had fed you, fantasies and love stories that had now brought you to believe that the touch of a pure maiden might tame the beast.

But the beast was already corrupted.

And it would have just eaten the maiden, had she come too close.

For a moment yesterday, at the feast, you had thought about a possible life with him.

A life in which you didn’t have to be your father’s spy and you could enjoy the tenderness of the soft feelings you were starting to develop for Ivar.

But you would never have the chance to do such a thing, now.

He had killed his own brother in cold blood.

You had read that on his face when you had asked him if it was the truth.

If Ubbe hadn’t simply said a lie to tear you apart.

And you didn’t know what his brother had done, but it never could be as much as the treason that you’d have to do to him on your father’s beliefs.

Just because he had showed you some love it didn’t mean that this would be how your life would have for ever been.

You had always lost yourself too easily in the fantasy of perfect worlds, fantastic beyond everything and where you could live happily ever after, like the few fables you enjoyed listening when you were smaller.

You had been the biggest fool, truly believing that this would be just another one of them.

You got yourself dressed mechanically, but your mind didn’t shut down in the slightest as it elaborated strategies and thoughts till it got too much and you were suddenly locked inside of your mind in a drunken stupor for everything around you.

Till Hvitserk showed up in your tent.

You didn’t want to see him, but deep down a desperate part of you ached for some kind of confront with the brothers.

To know something that could justify Ivar’s actions.

But deep down you knew it wouldn’t have eased your aching soul.

“… you looked like you haven’t…”.

Why was everyone so concerned with your sleeping?

“… I know” you shot back, with an harsh glare on your face, no need of any pretense with the man you had thought was your brother, although he had betrayed you two times.

“(Y/N)…” he rushed in immediately, probably hearing the annoyance in your tone, the tight rumble of the last word “… this isn’t something that…”.

“… that might concern me?” now your rage, which had been shot down by your tiredness and sleepless night, flared up completely “… he is my husband, Hvitserk! And Sigurd would have been my brother-in-law!”.

“You don’t know nothing about Sigurd!” the comment burned you, but your entire body felt as if it had been set on fire, and for somebody who had never been able to express her own rage, it felt damnably magnificent and tiring “… he and Ivar hated themselves and we all knew it would have come to that end, one or the other”.

“That doesn’t justify Ivar’s actions” your voice was now lowered, but it echoed deeply in the tent, suddenly feeling so closed inside of her, meanwhile Hvitserk took a step back.

Something burning on his tongue, but his brain holding it back.

“… it’s a different culture, princess (Y/N)” your full title now sounded liked disdain “… you wouldn’t understand it…”.

“No, I wouldn’t” the words were now a full offense for you, but again that quiet before the tempest filled your tone and her mouth and you spit everything out as a cascade at the end of a smooth river “… I was thrust in this reality not by my choice and I had to adapt, to learn and to survive. So, I might not understand it, but this doesn’t justify it in any way”.

And before Hvitserk could say anything you pushed out of the tent, the whole place becoming much more intolerable than before, the tightness of your chest being slightly eased out by the air outside.

The sun shone there, although it seemed just like the umpteenth attempt of the whole universe to make fun of you.

But you breathed better and deeper.

But did it soothe you, in any way? No.

You felt your name called out, but you simply kept on running.

It was the only way you could achieve some sense of freedom.

It was your last freedom.

And before you even realized it, your feet took you in front of the place you needed to go to finish all of this.

Heahmund’s tent.

The man looked surprised by your presence there, even more because she was quite aware of the fact that you looked like some kind of savage nymph with your hair unbound and your feet bare.

But he welcomed you inside.

‘… I wasn’t expecting you princess to be here’ he commented, meanwhile he gestured outside, as you entered the tent, noticing the minimal objects and furniture in it, but nonetheless it was Saxon to the core.

Unlike and like you.

‘… I heard that there has been quite the celebration yesterday’ it was obvious that to him all the rituals happening were nothing but heathen dances in the full moonlight and he frowned upon them.

And upon the Christian princess that had joined them.

And for a moment you wondered about what you were truly doing with him.

Was it be a good choice?

“I want a divorce” Heahmund definitely didn’t seem to think it was a good choice, although surprise shone brightly on his face after your affirmation “… something that’ll annul my wedding, although I already know it is illegal for Christians”.

“What?” Heahmund was definitely trying to make sense of the same princess who had told him to mind his own business the previous day, and then today appeared in his tent, just a few days later to pretend a divorce.

You were definitely full of surprises.

Exactly like Ivar.

“… did you know that my husband killed his brother?” you didn’t know why you asked that to Heahmund, but the mindless expression he gave you, confirming that he did know about it, made you feel even more betrayed “… and do you think that isn’t something that might make my husband dangerous to me?”.

“I am here to protect you, princess” it was almost an automatic response, the sole he could give with such short pretense.

“… like you protected me when I was accused of having tried poisoning Ivar?” you had definitely hit a sore spot as the bishop lowered his head and launched himself on the sole chair in the room.

You were happy of standing, able to tower over him, as if to ensure your power over him.

Your father would have been proud of you.

And disgust just flooded on your tongue, at that thought.

“… if he killed his brother, think what he’ll do to me, when he’ll discover what you and my father planned to do with our marriage. All the spying and lying” you knew you must have sounded pathetic, and it made you feel almost like you were chewing onto glass.

But you felt betrayed by everyone.

Because what made you speak and what you had just asked was the rage you had ignored for all your life, the one that had come out of being constantly belittled, scared and taunted, to the point that you felt like you couldn’t react.

You couldn’t show anything that you wanted to feel truly.

And you started being sick of this.

“You knew who he was when you married him, princess” Heahmund’s tone tasted of threat and you weren’t able to stop yourself from grimacing at that, although you gripped tighter your fists, Nanna’s teachings about how to attack definitely coming to your mind.

“… but did I have any choice other than marrying him?” the words echoed in the room in a way that hang on heavy around you, like a humid cloud involving you both and Heahmund wasn’t able to turn his head to the other side, as he had always done “… my father would have thrown me out, if I hadn’t accepted it…”.

“He won’t hurt you, my princess” and strangely you were aware of it.

But… yet… your soul was scared, left betrayed by your own thought of having believed that Ivar could be different from your father, when they were two men who wielded power through violence.

You shouldn’t have been surprised but yet scenes of ordinary sweetness between you and Ivar appeared in your mind and they kept on bothering you, because the revelation made you feel like there were two Ivars, something that you had seen before.

There was the one that would cradle you close to his chest, when you didn’t feel well enough, bringing you to his own private heaven so that you could share a moment, in something that nobody had ever bothered to do for you.

And then there was this disruptive creature, some kind of hungry wolf that trashed anything and anybody that came on his way, something that made you wary, not scared, but your self-respect wanted you to run on your own feet.

And only some basilar sense of honor held you there.

And the knowledge that running away would have solely given you more problems.

“… arrange the divorce” it was an order mixed with a threat, something that you learned from Heahmund’s tone itself, the man quirking an eyebrow at you, although his mouth kept itself in a straight line “… or I’ll handle it myself”.

And as you had come you exited the tent, noticing that life had started going on as usual again.

Everybody had somewhere to go and the sounds of an active army camp filled the air and for a moment you desperately wished to disappear in it, closing your eyes and hoping that, as an enchantment, your own will could bring you away from here.

In a place where you could be safe with your sisters.

Kathleen wouldn’t have felt this powerless, she would have fought, she would have stood her ground, meanwhile Abigail would have charmed everybody in giving her what she asked…

… and then there was you, who felt like everything was lost.

Your feet brought you to place where the boats were being repaired, the entire process having come to some kind of halt, since the workers who had been taking care of the boats to come back home, had been moved to make sure Bjorn’s would be ready for his and Halfdan’s departure.

Something bitter was in your mouth at the thought.

At Ivar’s first betrayal and lie.

You shouldn’t have been this surprised after all.

“I knew I’d found you here” the voice was slightly lighter than Ivar and spoke English graciously with no inflection in his tone and you didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Alexander.

You breathed out a breath of relief.

“… if you are here to tell me you were right, please don’t”.

You were already hard enough on yourself, on your own.

“I won’t” Alexander sat next to you, and although you felt the distance between you two, it brought you pack to a past time, when you were each other’s confessor, although there were things you hadn’t been able to tell even to him.

And now they damned your body to this kind of pain and loss.

“… good” it was so low that you were sure that it dispersed itself in the wind “… because I am already feeling like I lost everything and to know that I have lost also your friendship and respect it would… destroy me”.

What was this show of sincerity?

This sudden opening up to everybody.

It felt like weakness…

… and yet the way Alexander’s arm slung loosely over your shoulder felt heavenly and before you knew it the tears you hadn’t shed but needed to, escaped your control and soon you were crying on his chest desperately.

He simply caressed your back till sobs became sighs and eventually silence enveloped you both.

“… you’ll never lose something that is sacred to my heart” he commented once you had calmed down, gently bringing your hands in his, as you raised softly your head to meet his eyes, and he shook lightly his head “… I shouldn’t have said those things… I spoke of love, but the truth was that I had no right to it…”.

“… I am sorry my feelings can’t be…” but he shushed you softly.

“You can’t oblige your feelings to feel something that you don’t believe in” he spoke softly, measuring his words because they held an equal side of wisdom and pain “… that’s why you are feeling like everything is lost… because your head tells you to feel one thing and your heart… your heart is treacherous”.

“He is a murderer…” your voice was low and yet it could have shaken mountains.

It shook your soul to the core.

“… he… he isn’t the man that I was supposed to love” it felt like a justification.

A flimsy one.

“Love isn’t about deserving or earning” Alexander spoke slowly “… I know it on my own skin, but this doesn’t make it any less easy or more… simple”.

“… I can’t stay here” your legs lightly moved underneath you as if to reinforce the concept “… I shouldn’t have ever come, I should have done what Kathleen wanted me to do, run”.

“And when have you ever followed Kathleen’s advises?” now Alexander’s mouth was quirking up in a smile, a sarcastic one matched on your face, properly “… you are (Y/N), not Kathleen, don’t ever forget”.

“But I do wish I was her!” now your voice was loud enough to make a few of the workers turn around, but Alexander’s eyes shot to them to tell them to return to work, something they did without any questions “… I can’t do this… I can’t… anymore”.

Your hands gripped the earth beneath you, probably dirtying your nails but you needed to anchor yourself down as your lungs slowly started filling themselves slowly, meanwhile you pushed your hands underneath you, stretching your body.

“Then change” it felt natural the way he said it, like it was the only natural solution, but how could you even think about that, when you were stuck as nothing more than a glorified prisoner.

“… how?”.

“We’ll grab a few horses and we’ll make a fun for it” Alexander, always the knight in the shining armor, the one who played Arthur in your games because he was ‘the Just’, certainly wouldn’t have thought about anything more than that.

To him, it would have been a knightly ballad.

And to you a true nightmare.

That was why this would never work out between you two.

He was a dreamer and you had had too much reality in your own blood to believe in those fairytales.

As you had learned in the hard way, they always disappointed you.

“… this isn’t easy, Alexander” your tone was patient and yet tight, as if you couldn’t understand Alexander’s thoughts and point of view “… Heahmund won’t even grant me a divorce”.

“… then the only way is to run”.

This, indeed, sounded like Kathleen.

But (Y/N) was already asking herself where they’d go and hide, what they’d need for it.

And how it would influence the ones she left behind.

Ivar would have probably marched to your father to ask him to find you again to bring you back and your father would have absolutely tried his best to find you, using your sisters against you.

And yet, you couldn’t stay here.

Your hands let go of the earth as if it was poisonous.

But maybe you were what was truly poisonous.

“… I can’t”.

Because Alexander could look forward, like Kathleen.

But you couldn’t.

You hadn’t been able to, since your father had taken away the possibility of a future without him from you.

His actions had never let you think with your own head, with your wishes and your own taste and now you were broken completely.

And stuck in the middle.

Waiting for something.

“Then I’ll stay with you a bit longer…” Alexander’s voice was soothing and comforting and again you leaned your head against his shoulder “… my princess”.

\---

When you arrived back in your tent, rigorously escorted by Alexander in a silence that was terrible and your sole solution, you found all your ‘handmaidens’ reunited around your bed, their hands threaded together and their lips muttering a prayer that was too silent to reach your ears.

But you knew that they were praying for your protection, because as soon as you bumped into something with your knee, making enough noise to make your presence known to each of them, their eyes almost madly raised to you.

“Princess!” called out Lia, meanwhile Angelika’s slight smirk became as cold as the rocks outside and Caryn’s sweet smile faltered lightly again seeing your tired and disappointed smile “… we were worried! You didn’t… come for us, this morning”.

You wondered whether they knew.

None of them had followed you outside after you had received the news.

They had been all too busy dancing their hearts out and you couldn’t blame them.

You had always thought and felt like they were your friends and because of that they were happy of being so far away from their home, in a place where they had no real family and friend.

You had always been too naïve.

You wondered how far the word of your fight with Ivar had spread.

Part of you worried for what this might bring onto the scheme that you and Ivar had created.

You knew that Ubbe had told you this secret, because he hoped to bring whatever deal you and Ivar had done down, and he had succeeded in this brilliantly, because had the fight become of public domain, it would have brought down whatever appearance of romance you and Ivar had set up for each other.

Alongside your image of beloved leaders.

But part of you, the one that you had denied for so long, wanted to just push everything out in the open, to be able to mourn your pain publicly and have your own revenge on Ivar’s omitted pieces.

It felt so vile and yet it just felt right.

“… I just had to clear my mind” worry continued on lacing your handmaidens’ eyes, but the part of you that felt the need to doubt everything, now wasn’t able to look at them back.

You weren’t able to look at them without wondering whether it was genuine.

What was true, after all, in this settlement of liars and lies?

Your father would have called you melodramatic and even naïve, because to think that the truth was what you saw was the greatest trick that the Devil had played on humanity.

And who didn’t understand this would have been completely destroyed by others

“Is… your mind… clear, now?” it was obvious that Angelika’s words were a polished version of what she truly wanted to say.

And do, with her way her fists tightened around the pretty fabric of her lovely bluish dress.

She wouldn’t have been as naïve as you, in your place.

“… a bit” words were difficult and you excused Alexander quickly with a few more, not truly wanting him to see what you felt, unable to conceal your ache for what he had proposed, alongside the knowledge that you wouldn’t have ever been able to realize his plan “… I’d like to lay down, alone”.

It was lunch time, but you felt like you would have pushed out anything that you’d have eaten, so you thought that the only way you could tolerate the passing of the day was alone.

With your books.

“… it wouldn’t be wise to leave you…” tried to start Solveig, her voice and her Nordic accent, a small memory of your husband’s one “… we should…”.

“Leave me, alone”.

You must have sounded like a spoiled brat, but you knew that your eyes held the wound of your pride and your imagination.

And soon you heard a fluttering of feet and curt bows, meanwhile dresses grated almost noiseless against the floor, wiping it clean in some kind of ritual that left you to push yourself on the ground, on your knees.

And silently cry.

You dragged your tired body as some kind of wounded beast till the trunk with all your books and searched through it for some old books about laws, most importantly wedding laws, even getting the Bible out.

It was a small one that Father Peter had gifted you when you weren’t anything more than a small crumb, in hopes it’d guide you to sanctity.

How far were you from it…

But the truth was that you could have wielded the book with all the world’s knowledge and yet you wouldn’t have found a solution to your own dilemma, because your father wouldn’t have ever granted you a divorce or annulled the marriage.

You were his little bishop, on his own personal chessboard, willing to the ultimate sacrifice and honored for the protection of the king, something that made you unable to follow a proper trajectory on her own.

Just another piece on the board.

If you asked for a divorce your father would have immediately denied it, because you were a precious spy.

And had you tried to escape, he would have turned himself against your sisters, till he brought you right back where he had always had you.

There was no way to escape his grip.

In the end, you hadn’t had many choices when the marriage had been set up.

And now that it was celebrated and you were the wife of a monster, you had even less.

There was a third way.

That was something stories had always told you.

And as your hands were in search for many more books, almost frantic in their movements, they brushed against the leather sheath of the dagger your father had given you to achieve the most utter level of betrayal towards Ivar.

But could you kill somebody?

The dagger weighted heavily on your hands, but you knew just how to grip it to be sure to stabilize it in your grip, thank to Nanna’s lessons, since you had trained with wooden knives, in your latest lessons.

‘Held it with one hand’ and you followed the instructions in your mind, grabbing the handle with strength, as your fingers pushed up their to wrap against the metal, to grip it steadily ‘… this way you’ll have much more strength from your upper arms’.

And then you’d pierce Ivar’s skin.

And not the bottom of the trunk.

Would it have made so much difference?

Would you have found resistance?

Would you have survived the attack, had you been able to catch Ivar by surprise, finishing the fatal mission her father had given you?

But right when the dagger was through piercing itself in the trunk your hand trembled and soon the trembling pushed itself up to your whole body in a way that made goosebumps appear on your skin, a slight shade of red appearing on you cheeks.

And you felt it because they burned.

Like your arms.

As if you had received some kind of premonition, the knife slipped from your grip, as you felt somebody entering the tent.

And you had gotten yourself used to those dragged out steps.

You had cherished them just a few days ago.

And you knew that Ivar had almost caught you in a dangerous experimentation.

But nothing in you wanted to be careful.

You had been focusing all your energy on hiding the double-play you had brought in your dowry and now you were so tired of everything.

So tired of Ivar’s and your father’s games.

You should have seen how similar they were from the start.

How deceitful and monstrous they both were.

Drenched in violence and unable to love others.

And yet, as Ivar’s eyes met yours, tired and disappointed, all the flashes of your happy moments appeared in front of your eyes, again, and for a moment you felt like throwing your arms around him.

And then the image of blood, tears and smoke filled your eyes.

You had been already too foolish.

And your eyes became of ice.

“… would you like to talk?” Ivar’s voice was as dry as your mouth, but yet it felt like a dam holding back something more and you trained your eyes to the ground, to avoid seeing what he hid in his eyes.

Because they’d have made you think you were talking with a human.

“I sent away my handmaidens away for a reason” you hadn’t ever been this cold and this angry and it felt like every hit you sent his way was one to yourself and you couldn’t help but clutch your fists tight by your side, adjusting your dress just to look busy “… and Hvitserk already tried to say something”.

“He ran out of the tent with his tail between his legs” his attempt at humor was welcomed by a dry glare and this time in your eyes there wasn’t anything to be held back.

They were pure flames.

“… he told me that I don’t understand your ways” suddenly your own dam was broken and before you knew it, you were pushing out all the shit that you had swallowed all these years “… but the truth is that I was pushed in this, without anybody asking me what I wanted and what I preferred”.

“I had to learn on my own how to behave, how to act, how to fucking survive” Ivar backed off lightly, and your body raised in a swift move “… I had to learn how to fight back, how to defend myself from all the ones around me and not to trust anybody…”.

“You are a princess, you should have known these things” now Ivar’s tone was as dark as yours, and as you turned to look at him in the eyes you spotted that he hadn’t been able to conceal that you had hurt him.

And it made you feel good.

It made you take that step forward that separated you.

“… you are right” your voice was the calm before the storm, mirroring completely the static energy that followed lighting, meanwhile your voice became the booming power of a thunder “… I am a fucking believer of stories and you thought that you could control me easily because of that”.

Ivar seemed taken aback by your affirmation, and raised his arms as if to grab your attention but now you were utterly done and if he wanted to make you suffer, you’d drag him with you

“… for all my life I had somebody that controlled me, so it should have been easy for you to do the same for me, it was nice when you could make me act the role of the nice wife, the one that’d have stood by your side, no matter what…” a light of protest appeared in Ivar’s eyes and you chastised it with a look of your own “… don’t fucking deny it, my prince”.

You could have screamed and it would have done less damage than it did now, as Ivar lost suddenly his balance on his own braces and although everything in your body ached to desperately cradle him closer to you, help him up…

… your soul was frozen.

“… but I am done playing these games” and you let Ivar catch a glimpse in your tiredness “… and from now on, I wish you not to be my husband anymore in our tent, I’ll keep up the dutiful wife act outside of here, but I just can’t… I won’t be your bride in anything but my body”.

Ivar reached out for your dress, as you exited the tent, but you were faster.

Running away was your sole weapon.

And it struck deeper than a dagger.

\---

Nanna noticed your uneasiness to even look towards a weapon immediately, as you came to here to train, and sent you through a run of the woods, to stretch your muscles before the real training, some kind of hand to hand combat that you had practiced till you knew the moves by heart.

For which you were grateful since your mind was completely gone.

And you couldn’t seriously do much more than crouch down and avoid hit after hit, meanwhile your attacks were lethal, enough that this time you almost hit Lia, the poor girl having to shield herself through a big push onto your chest, which sent you tumbling down.

And you welcomed the fall.

The loss of control was dizzying and maddening and for somebody who was a step close to losing it completely it was refreshing like rain on your face in a hot summer day.

And Nanna caught on all of this immediately.

She approached you as you came back to Bukefalos.

‘… whatever you have in mind, you should know that the brothers never liked each other” you rolled your eyes at her, a bold move that accompanied your own insanity since you wouldn’t have ever dared doing anything like that.

But the truth was that if you had gone through so much shit because of others, it was because you, firstly, had let yourself go through it, eventually creating a patterns of behaviors that you’d assume to avoid angering others.

You thought they’d spare you from pain.

But they had never worked truly.

And now you raged with intensity.

“… Hvitserk already tried this discourse with me” you counterattacked before Nanna could finish whatever she was saying, but unlike with Hvitserk, she held her own ground and waited for your outburst to end “… it doesn’t justify him”.

“It doesn’t, it never will” there was something deeper in Nanna’s eyes “… I am the first to say such a thing, because you see… I was Sigurd’s trainer, I taught him how to fight, although he wasn’t in the slightest talented for it, he was a great musician…”.

The confession seemed to cost Nanna years as her face became suddenly older and you couldn’t help but stop for a moment and think about what she had truly gone through.

You didn’t know Nanna, exactly as you didn’t know perfectly your handmaidens, so to be the witness of such a concealed pain it made your soul suddenly shift onto the most compassionate mood, although rage still burned and asked explanations.

“… I hate him, you know” Nanna’s voice was a soft whisper, her face holding a tight smirk, a sad one that spoke of many nights wasted to overthinking and distrusting anybody “… that’s why I wasn’t kind to you, when you first came, I thought that you were nothing but a meek little mannequin here for his schemes”.

“I am that” your voice tasted like a harsh bite, and Nanna sent you a compassionate look, but no pity in it, as if she knew deep down that that rage simply concealed much more.

“… you were” corrected her Nanna, coming closer to you, and lightly brushed away strand of hair drenched with sweat you hadn’t noticed you had shed “… but the truth is that you weren’t ever meek and stupid, someone easy to manipulate? Maybe at the start, but not anymore. That’s just a front and this strength that you are destroying through your rage… it’s the true you”.

Nobody had ever said something like that to you

You had loved Kathleen to Death and back, and yet, she had always treated her as if you were the meek little girl that your father had wanted you to be, and she couldn’t see past it, in the end becoming one of the many golden cages that wrapped you too tight.

You had always felt helpless.

Even when your strength had been reinforced.

But now somebody had finally acknowledged it…

… it felt like a freedom.

Like a beacon of hope.

That your rage shoved back inside.

“… he is a monster”.

“No” Nanna voice echoed through the empty spot of the forest she had brought you so that you could be more private “… he isn’t a monster, because those exist only in fairytales, little princess, he is a boy who has done and will for ever do monstrous things”.

“… is there any difference?”.

Your voice was slightly broken and even more importantly it seemed almost frail in the way it trembled in your own mouth, as if you wanted to eat it right back, because it was the breaking point.

Your breaking point.

Could you love somebody that would have tainted you?

Somebody who wouldn’t have hesitated to bring you down for his own plans?

No matter the fact that he had promised that he wouldn’t have ever done such a thing.

Could you turn a blind eye to all the monstrous things he did?

What would have made you?

A coward or a hypocrite?

“… there is” Nanna’s voice was instead low as if it was tasting the words, making sure they were the right ones “… being a monster isn’t a choice, doing monstrous thing is, and it only depends on us”.

“This doesn’t make everything better in any way”.

“It isn’t meant to” Nanna’s eyes settled on you unrelenting and piercing “… it is meant to bring knowledge to you. Even you would do something monstrous if you were given the proper stimulus believe me”.

The words seemed so foreign to you.

And yet hadn’t you cheated, lied and hidden?

Could you seriously blame Ivar for his lies?

Still you held your position strongly.

“… this isn’t some kind of silly courtly game, princess” Nanna’s hand shot out to your wrist and before she could grab, your reflexes acted up and you pushed it back “… and look at you, you already know the first step of it: don’t trust anybody”.

“… why don’t you cut Ivar’s throat off in his sleep?” it was treason what you had suggested, your father would have had the people saying it dead, but Nanna simply sent you a soft laugh.

“Because then I wouldn’t be different from him” it felt such an obvious choice and yet it clashed so deeply with the warrior image she had of Nanna “… the difference between me and Ivar it is that I can become a monster to defend what I believe in and he becomes a monster because he has been taught to hate whatever doesn’t agree with him”.

A logic came in front of your eyes.

“… he was born to be king, shaped by an overprotective mother who loved him and a father that hated what he truly was and taught him that love and happiness wouldn’t have been what was in his Destiny” the image of Ivar became much more complex at all these revelations “… this isn’t to justify him, but the first step to stop being afraid of people who do monstrous things is to understand them”.

Nanna’s hand now gently moved onto your shoulder, the grip strangely comforting, since it didn’t coddle you in any way.

But it stood with her.

“… I know you aren’t scared” she commented, as she slowly distanced herself from you “… and know that you are confused, so I hope that knowledge will help you in your choice”.

“As if I had one” you were simply able to mutter.

“… life is a path and you always come at crossroad, little princess”.

\---

When you had come back to tent you had soon found out that you were alone, and you couldn’t exactly blame Ivar for not wanting to share the room with you.

But at the same time, you were almost grateful he had left your space.

Nanna’s talk had certainly cleared you a few things, if not about yourself, about Ivar.

But everything inside of you raged and ached for an answer that could calm your fear, ease your worries and finally find a solution to the enigma inside your heart: were you allowed to feel what you had started feeling for Ivar, or had it been all a mistake?

Your feelings were so confused that your feet just wanted to bring you away from there, if not for yourself, for the simple calm of mind that being far away from anybody would have given you.

You wanted just a bit freedom.

But you had taken your first steps in a priced cage.

So, how could you exit when the cage was smaller, and you knew nothing of it…

Your fist punched the light cupboard you had beside the entrance, where you knew that Ivar kept your nuptial gifts and you hit a bit too hard because the cupboard was slightly shaken and before you knew it, something fell right on the floor in front of you.

Floki’s gift, the small box with the moving sides, was now on the ground and as you rushed to grab it, already worried of having broken it, you noticed that out of pure luck you hadn’t broken it, completely.

But the box was now open lightly at the center and you moved yourself to collect it, finding much more than you had bargained for, because the broken box revealed a small piece of paper, which you grabbed, knowing quite well that you Vikings didn’t have written language, although you had received a book with a few runes and the proper pronunciation for words…

… and in fact, the paper didn’t contain any writing.

But it was a map.

A map, that contained all the villages around the settlement, signaling the ones that were already occupied by Vikings troupes and the ones that weren’t, making you discover that you had a convent nearby, a few days of travels.

But, again, you knew that escaping wouldn’t have been useful to anybody.

Unless… unless you managed to maintain the pact with Ivar.

And unless anything happened to you.

Had you died, accidentally, Ivar wouldn’t have been able to break the oath of protection to your father and your father wouldn’t have harmed your sister to try to get you back to him.

But you didn’t have any intention to cut your life so shortly, not only because you were coward and too attached to the life you had just started living, but you knew that suicide might destroy the oath, almost as much as a direct betrayal to either your father or Ivar.

But suddenly more and more ideas set up in your mind, as you remembered Nanna’s discourse.

A terrible and monstrous idea came to you, as you watched at the map, clutching it tighter in your hands till it appeared lightly crisped and marks of your nails etched in it.

You pushed it in your sleeve, and for the second time in that day you went to visit Alexander.

You noticed that a few guards followed you, although not closely and you were even more surprised to discover that Alexander and a few of his men had been asked to stay for a few days more.

‘To ease the princess’ nostalgy’ had mumbled Alexander, recalling the small meeting he had had that morning with Heahmund after you had left, the man looking as desperate as annoyed, and when your best friend discovered what you had asked of the bishop…

… he laughed loudly.

“… I don’t trust Heahmund, in the slightest” you mumbled, under your breath, but were still thankful for having Alexander with you a bit, even more with the plan your mind had conjured.

You showed Alexander the map you had found.

‘They probably wanted to use it to conquer more lands’ commented the blonde-haired knight, as he examined the countries that were left unconquered ‘… they couldn’t know that Ivar would have married an English princess, sealing peace with king Alfred and your father’.

‘… that gives me more credit than I have really’ you mumbled, but more because Ivar being brought in this conversation would have risked ruining all your coherent thoughts and confidence.

“This morning you said we should run away” your voice was low, although the guards outside hadn’t seemed to understand any English, but you tried your best to avoid being discovered “… but for me it isn’t just possible, I do know that if I just run away, my father would bring me back, using my sisters against me”.

“… so, you haven’t changed idea?” Alexander’s tone was slightly pensive and heavy, enough that you were very aware that he stood by your side no matter what.

And you needed that loyalty for your plan.

Something that still made you a bit icky to use, since you were aware that you were partly using Alexander’s fascination for you to get him to collaborate with you.

And it was horrible.

It felt awful.

And it was something that you could feel both Ivar and your father would have done.

Nanna had talked with you about creatures doing monstrous things, but not about the influence they’d have on the people around them,

“… my father wouldn’t search for me if I was dead”.

In Alexander’s eyes a flash of hurt and surprise appeared and immediately he reached out to you, trying to grab your wrist, but you snatched it quickly, as he instead went to gently caress one of your cheeks, as you kept your eyes down.

Unable to see the commotion and devotion in his eyes.

It reminded you of Ivar’s quiet misery of this morning.

Why had you this effect on men?

They were all moved by you and yet they wouldn’t listen on anything you had to say.

“… I won’t help you on your path to self-destruction, (Y/N)” Alexander told you, looking at you attentively “… I can’t… truly… I’ll swear my sword to your protection, but not to your destruction”.

“I wouldn’t need to die, to be thought dead” you added, trying to ease the worry in Alexander’s eyes “… I… if I was thought to be dead through some accident, leaving behind some of my things, I wouldn’t… I would be able to start again a new life, in a convent, where nobody has heard of me”.

The plan was crazy and Alexander did look at you as if you had definitely suggested something blasphemous, and honestly…

… had you had any other chance, you wouldn’t have suggested it.

But Heahmund or your father wouldn’t have ever granted you a chance of divorce.

And running out would have resulted in simply being brought back by force, either using it on you or your sisters.

And you couldn’t stay here.

Not when you had people pushing you through situation you didn’t belong in.

No matter how much you had thought of loving Ivar, your father expected you to do something against him and had Ivar discovered anything about what you had done and what you intended to do, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you.

And you had enough of being controlled and used for others’ plans.

You had now your own.

Your life at a convent wouldn’t have been perfect.

But you wouldn’t have risked your life, daily basically.

“This isn’t… this is…” Alexander’s eyes searched yours, hoping to find some gleam of sanity but you simply held yourself strong in your conviction, because had you lost also that…

… you would have completely vanished.

“… crazy”.

“That’s my only chance” you insisted loudly “… I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t. I know that you want the best for me, but I can’t simply hide behind you anymore”.

Something in his eyes became sad and you had to admit what stood on your tongue, ready to be swallowed, because it was the truth.

And you knew that truth never paid off.

“… I know that you are in love with me” you admitted “… and I know that you want to protect me because of that, but I … Alexander I grew out of the fairytale, I don’t think it ever was. I don’t want you to do this because you expect something in return or because it is what virtuous knights do. I want you to do this because… you think it is the right thing”.

Alexander’s hand fell from your face and for a moment you were sure that you had done the wrong thing, you had chosen the wrong road and now you could only hope that Alexander would at least respect the secret of your words.

But for the second time in this day, you found a bit of luck, in this unlucky situation.

“I am not going to help you, as a lover” it hit you deeply, but Alexander’s eyes stared right back in yours, full of support “… I am going to help you, because I should have done all of this before”.

You looked at him curious about what he’d say next, but you couldn’t have ever foreseen what he’d say next.

“… I should have helped you and your sisters with your father”.

And for somebody who had never admitted what your father had made you go through, although solely emotionally, the knowledge that somebody had been witness to it took you like a sword straight up in your chest.

A bleak kind of pain hit you and you almost felt ashamed that he had found out about this.

“… how?” the words got all confused in your mouth “… how did you know?”.

“I didn’t… I just connected the dots” you didn’t know whether you wanted to hide all of this further in your heart, because shame just took you fully, or to finally breath out the truth.

Because finally you had received some respect, and somebody saw all of you.

“… once… when we were children… I accidentally ripped Kathleen’s gown, meanwhile we were fighting, and I found a big… big bruise on it”.

“… I didn’t realize back then that it came from your father, but I saw the way you flinched whenever he was slightly displeased with you, even more when I saw Kathleen flinching of pain if we ever fought, and seeing bruises on here that she justified as old wounds…”.

Alexander’s knowledge made you sick to your stomach.

Had others known about your father’s actions?

Had they known all this time and never done anything?

Although you were the first to admit that your father’s actions would have put the fear of God in everyone, you couldn’t believe that so many had stayed silent, at seeing the constant ruination of you and your beloved sisters.

“… and as a child I believed it, but when we started growing up we became more and more tight knit and I wasn’t able to ignore the way you’d shift away from your father, or the way Abigail would have her eyes trained down on the ground, whenever he was near… or how much Kathleen limped after she had answered her father’s provocations…”.

Painful memories overcame you as you choked on your own words.

“… that’s why I told you we should have run away, when we were still at the castle, before I got recruited in the army, I wanted to keep you safe, but…” a shade of guilt dyed his eyes “… I was just a boy and there wasn’t much I could do, I didn’t have the power and neither the money to convince your father to let you marry me”.

“And then my brother died and the only that kept me going was the fact that I could have finally been enough in your father’s eyes…” and his eyes showed the idealistic beliefs you had always loved about him “… but right when I came back, I found out that your father had sold you off to somebody’s else”.

The way he pronounced the word ‘sold you off’ made you feel so heavy and ashamed.

But it was the truth.

Your father had sold you like a priced cow.

And you wouldn’t have simply ‘mooed’ your annoyance, anymore.

You would have done something with it.

“… so, I’ll help you, my princess” Alexander sealed off his oath, as his hand reached out to you, nothing romantical in the way that he gripped your small hand in his “… for all the times that I couldn’t”.

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice, as you turned to the map

“... but we’ll need a well-thought plan”

“I have one” you commented lowly “… have you ever heard of the novella of the matron of Efeso?”.

\---

You and Alexander had been talking about the plans for quite some time, estimating how much time it’d take you both to get ready.

You ran on stolen time, barely a week from when you’d be leaving for Kattegat, and Alexander’s staying had been extended for a few days, a whole week, if the heathens felt generous, something that made you both anxious.

And yet adrenaline filled your brain.

You almost hadn’t wanted to stop yourself from your plotting schemes with Alexander, but you knew that staying in his tent for more than it was proper would have costed you whispers.

Even more when the crisis between you and Ivar was evident.

So, you had tried to hide your schemes, through various visits, moving again to Heahmund, with the excuse to thank him for Alexander’s prolonged staying, appearing the image of the docile sheep, as the bishop complimented your virtues of patience and perseverance.

‘The ones of a true queen’ he had said, a strange gleam in his eyes, but you had chosen to ignore it, sick in the stomach at the sole thought that he had known about your father’s abuse against you and your sister.

And had never done anything.

Alexander’s confession of knowledge had opened your eyes and what you had thought was a closed world of violence and cunningness, had been open to the whole court to see and witness.

And nobody had done something against it.

They had all been cowards.

Like you.

And yet, a new kind of rage followed these new revelations, because you understood that many nobles completely depended upon your father, but yet, so many had even taken part in your father’s plan with no intention to even try to shed a glance your way.

You and your sisters had been left alone, to be adored and wished upon, and yet beaten down till your resistance broke.

But the truth was that it had never broken.

Kathleen was the portrait of that, and Abigail had much more cunningness than her soft preface gave the appearance of.

And as of you, the time in the Viking settlement had revealed to you, skills that you had never thought you owned.

You had always sold yourself short, and now it was time that you took the power away from all the men in your life that had taken it for you, doing not what Kathleen would have done, but what (Y/N) would have done.

Your father had thought that he had raised a stupid daughter, one that would be the perfect shy wife to a prince that wanted her simply to lay in bed, but you were far more than that.

And you wondered whether Ivar had known it from the start.

But these were questions you couldn’t allow yourself to have.

There were questions you’d leave behind as you took the vows and the veil.

‘… you’d have to change your appearance’ had mentioned Alexander meanwhile you talked about what you’d need to do to be accepted in a convent: money would have bought silence, but it wouldn’t have been enough to stop people from talking once it was finished ‘… maybe dye or cut your hair’.

And all these transformations had all seemed to you one more way to leave that life behind.

Your only regret was leaving your sisters.

The thought of never having to see them again, would have been difficult for you, to say the least, but Alexander had assured you that now that he had his brother’s inheritance he’d be able to move in court and he’d be by your sisters’ side.

He had sworn an oath to it, but you already believed him blindly.

You knew that you’d for ever regret the thought of him not being the one you had married and the one your heart loved, but there wasn’t much you could do, except be grateful for the support of such a friend.

After the visit to bishop Heahmund, you had tried your best to appear in public, wandering through the market alongside a few girls, till the night overtook the light of the day and you chose to dine alone in your room.

You hoped Ivar would ignore you like he had done for the whole afternoon (or better, as you had done with him for the whole afternoon).

But apparently, lady Luck had helped you too much this evening.

And your husband met you in your tent for a private dinner.

This was what he said to your handmaidens, as he sent them away, although Angelika had be to dragged away by a rather annoyed Solveig, the older woman, halfway through pushing her by the hair, something that brought a dry giggle to your mouth.

But as you turned to face Ivar, the giggle got stuck in your throat.

You had expected him to be angry, and although you had armed yourself with a good amount of your own anger, ready to spit back and fight…

… he just looked old.

As if tiredness had cursed his handsome image.

His eyes weighted heavily in their sockets and they hanged down, staring at his bracing, still on him and for a moment your hands shot forward almost wanting to do what you had started doing for him, your nimble fingers more able than the ones of any guard.

But you bit back your lips and pushed your hands away.

Many thought that the curse of sin could be transmitted through touch.

And yet, your whole body ached to give him some kind of comfort.

“… I’ll have dinner, in here, hope you don’t mind” your voice was slightly unsure and trembling, and you thought that it hadn’t reached Ivar truly, till he simply gave you a light shoulder nod, a moan of pain exiting his mouth as he moved his body “… are you hurt?”.

“What do you care?” that voice was so cutting that it was aimed to hurt you, without any doubts “… you aren’t my wife, anymore in this tent”.

You bit your lips, because your tantrum against him in that tent hadn’t been fair both to your strategy, but also to him, because as much as you hated the thought of what he had done, the rage you had shot him with was partly towards you.

You just changed the direction of it.

“… I might not be your wife, but…”.

He raised himself so swiftly and all the food that had been laid on the tray on the bed, fell in a cacophony of sounds that brought you to immediately cover your ears with your hands.

“What are you to me princess, truly?!” he was using the same tone you had used with him this morning, cutting and made to hurt your opponent, in a vocal sparring you had just learned.

And he was a champion in it.

“… you think that it is easy for me…” your words sounded frail to you, so it didn’t surprise you that Ivar destroyed them with a bloodied look and another shout.

This time your hands remained paralyzed to your torso.

“This isn’t about what I fucking did to Sigurd!” he shouted back to you “… this what is going to fucking happen in this tent! We had a fucking deal!”.

You were paralyzed and you felt bile coming back in your mouth, and before you knew it you pushed yourself outside of the tent, and emptied all your empty stomach on the ground, although you didn’t vomit anything much more than mead and water.

You stood with your body bent in two, your stomach aching and your mind running around, in a way that made you lightly scrunch your eyebrows in a way to calm your soul.

But nothing eased the confusion in your whole body.

The way it trembled so lowly.

And then rage filled you.

And you pushed yourself back in that tent.

“… you are right!” you didn’t even look at Ivar, as your hands hastily ripped off the slight nightgown you had been wearing, lowering it over your night garments “… we have a deal, then fucking take what I offered you, be the fucking prince you think yourself to be!”.

Your voices sounded so rough and so broken that they didn’t belong to you but to some wounded animal.

And Ivar looked at you surprised, as you made the nightgown pool at your feet, revealing your body barely covered by the rough fabric of your garments, your nipples piercing through the fabric for the coldness of the room.

A fire was blaring in the fireplace, but it wasn’t in any way of some use to you both.

You were looking at each other as two wounded lions, prideful and yet asking the other to quit this pretense and to help each other.

And you pierced your palms with your nails to make that thought vanish.

“… you seriously married me thinking that I wouldn’t someday protest against everything you have taken me away from…” your words echoed in the air and you weren’t able to stop yourself from the step forward you took.

“I always thought that you were smart” his voice was finally the truth.

But they weren’t of any consolation to you.

“You fell in love with a fantasy, Ivar” you spoke, your voice appearing in all the sadness of your condition “… I am not a fantasy, I am a person, and not a pawn, one that will simply stand by your side, without fear or…”.

“I would never hurt you”.

You refused to meet his eyes, because you knew it would have been the truth.

And it would have undone you.

“… those are words, not fact” and you smiled softy and tragically “… not facts”.

“I wouldn’t….” his voice was finally showing his age, a few years older than yours, and yet infinitely younger in a way that made you wonder whether you had been talking with a child

An unloved one.

“… what do I have to do to show you that you wouldn’t ever be hurt?”.

“… nothing, Ivar” your voice was flat, because otherwise it would have begged for more.

“… there must be something!” his voice was now the tantrum of a child, and as you finally raised your eyes again, you found them laced with a rejection he had known all too well.

When you had first met him, you had thought that the sadness you had seen in his eyes was due to the fact that you were both forgotten children, alone in their thoughts and ideas.

And yet, something in his eyes reeked of the same martyrdom you had put yourself through.

Hadn’t Nanna told you that his own father hadn’t ever had any gentle words for him?

But did this seriously make any excuse for him?

You had grown with a father that had abused you emotionally and you hadn’t ever thought about killing one of your sisters.

“Sometimes the only solution we can offer is simply to leave things as they are” your voice didn’t sound convinced, but there wasn’t much comfort you could offer to Ivar, not when you knew yourself what was going on in your head “… I’ll keep up part of my deal outside of here, but I don’t… “.

“… but you’ll never be my lover” now Ivar’s words made a defeated sound in his mouth “… I wonder why I ever thought that you could be that”.

The words hanged in the air heavily, as Ivar lightly turned on the bed away from you, facing the opposite part and although you had been prepared for worse, the way he had chosen all of this… it destroyed you.

But you couldn’t do much more than adjust yourself on the opposite side of him.

You just needed to hold on till Alexander would have the money and the things you needed and then you’d be able to leave all of this behind.

And yet, like some silly child, your hands reached out to the cold middle of your bed.


End file.
